


Beyond What is Known

by Pipkin_In_The_Grass



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babyfic, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, It takes awhile for Plot to rear its head, OCs for days - Freeform, Plenty of fluffy stuff, Possibly OoC Outsider, Pregnancy, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-23 10:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 47
Words: 149,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pipkin_In_The_Grass/pseuds/Pipkin_In_The_Grass
Summary: A mistake made in corrupting a rune reveals forces beyond the ken of even the Outsider himself. Severed from his place, he seeks the assistance of Emily to return things to normal. At the same time, the Oracular Sisters of Dunwall befriend a divinity, and are forced to reconsider their position on magic. Friendships are nurtured, all the while something sinister lurks beyond...





	1. Introduction

#  Introduction

A scream- cut short by a knife, pierced the Void.

The Ritual was complete, a need satisfied.  Flesh made stone, spirit made god, the Outsider was born.

Knowledge flooded his mind, and all the world was laid bare before him.  All the world mortal, and immortal. 

The first thing the Outsider learned is that the Void was infinite, but it was not all.  The second thing the Outsider learned is that Void had its own wishes- wishes that he is meant to fulfill.  The wishes were simple: Observe the world mortal, and perhaps meddle when he sees fit.  Ignore what lay beyond them.  Protect the integrity of the Void. 

The third thing the Outsider learned was that he had no name.

Floating alone in the Void- who he was and not was- the newly born god wept for the dead fifteen year old boy.

* * *

 

Thousands of years passed.  The Outsider appeared to some, Marked fewer, but made himself known.  The Void had long been worshiped, and now its representative was too.  People called on him for luck and favor, blessings and power.  His magics were found in runes and bonecharms, in silver mines and paintings.  Not all credited the Outsider for the power in bonecharms, and some carved runes honoring other deities.  But no one denied he existed, and all had his name on their lips, in praise, plea, or curse.

This mattered not to the Outsider.  Being worshiped was part of the job; it did nothing for him but provide occasional amusement.  Not all his Marked worshiped him- indeed the Outsider vastly preferred the indifferent.  They were much more fascinating to watch and interact with- some bubbling over with sass and insolence, others quiet and polite.  All of them did dark deeds, and many faded from his mind when their moment of power and control has past. 

One part of the world mortal held his interest longer than the rest- the Isles of Gristol, Morley, Serkonos, and Tyvia.  Those four tiny isles were familiar to him somehow, in memory long forgotten.  The emergence of the zealous Abbey of the Everyman was particularly interesting to him.  Their hatred of the Outsider was fascinating, as well their success in heretic squashing and eventual ascendance to state religion.  Those who once wore his mark proudly upon their hand hid it, to avoid being hunted down by the Overseers.  The suffering of his worshippers mattered not to the Outsider; he had seen such a path long ago, and their pain mattered little to him.

* * *

 

A hundred years pass, then fifty.  The Empire of Isles has industrialized, built off the suffering of whales and people.  The Abbey of the Everyman remains powerful, yet still have been unable to squash the practices of magic and worship of the Outsider.  As for the Outsider himself, the god finds himself to be rather engrossed with the going-ons of the citizens of Dunwall.  There is Daud the Assassin, Granny Rags, Corvo Attano, Delilah Copperspoon, and- most recently- Emily Kaldwin.  The excitement of the Rat Plague and Assassination of Jessamine Kaldwin, Delilah’s bewitchments and coup, and Emily’s remarkably peaceful restoration actions in Serkonos held his attention.  But not all things do.  Indeed, he knew not at all when a chapel of Oracular Sisters was touched by a divinity.


	2. Chapter 1: A New Orthodoxy

##  Chapter 1: A New Orthodoxy

It was the 3rd day of the Month of Nets, 1852.  It was grim and cloudy in Dunwall, threatening the rain that named the month that followed.  Within the chapel of the Oracular Sisters, the air was tense and fearful.  Sister Roswyen called for a Gathering, and for the first time in her life as a sister, Greta Manderly wanted to refuse to go.  Greta had no desire to be among her sisters, discussing their fates as the witch Delilah held the Isles in her thrall.  Dread weighed heavily upon her, and despair gnawed upon her guts.  No amount of research could posit a solution- no amount of sectioned research that is.  In spite of her desire to bury herself under a mound of blankets and scream into a pillow, Greta found herself walking alongside her sisters to the cloister.

“I hope a sister wiser than I can propose a solution or prophesize comfort,” she thought, fiddling with her belt as she entered the green cloister.  Sister whispered to Sister, some consulting books together, others reciting the Strictures feverishly.  Never had Greta seen such a worried Gathering, and the overall anxiety both comforted her and stressed her further.  A gentle hand tapped her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts

“Greta,” whispered Sister Mary, her thin wrinkled face kind and calm. “Help me light the incense.” 

Greta smiled, relieved, at her mentor.  “It would be my pleasure Sister Mary.”

They waded through white robes, careful not to tred upon anyone, spill incense upon the ground or light a colorful blindfold on fire.  The sweet smoke curled up to the glass roof, bringing the clouds inside the cloister.  Sister Rosewyn, following them with keen eyes, called the room to order as Sister Mary lit the last brazier.  Greta found a place to sit on the stone walkway off to the left, a place favored by the younger sisters such as herself.  The Strictures were recited, and the Gathering began

“All thirty-two of the Dunwall Oracular Order stand here in this room,” Sister Rosewyn said, her face stoney.  “And we shall hear the thoughts of each sister.  It is with grave news that I inform you of our brother Overseer’s failure to root out the witch and her coven from the Tower.  There is one survivor, who I tasked with a mission that he unfortunately failed, and is grievously injured.  I pray he may recover swiftly.”

Greta found herself gasping alongside many of her Sisters.  One next to her, eighteen year-old Marzia, began openly weeping.  Greta immediately offered her embrace, which Marzia took.

“What does that mean for us?” cried Sister Hope, standing up towards the back with her fists clenched. “Shall we start planning for battle?”

“If we must,” Sister Rosewyn replied, grave.  “As is our tradition, we shall put together our minds to try and discern a path.  Since the circumstances are so extraordinary, I regret not giving ample time to research the question.”

“Can such a question be researched?” posited gruff Bernice, her wrists lazily resting atop round knees, her blind eyes staring upwards. “We are facing strong magic, not some lunatics with bonecharms.”

“We have defeated Heretics in the past!” shouted Hope, her eyes alight and teeth gnashing. “We can do it again!”

A murmur ran through the circles, some sisters nodding resolutely, others looking skeptical. Marzia finally stopped weeping and withdrew from Greta’s embrace

“How effective was the Ancient Music?” Greta asked, after a beat of silence.  It was an obvious question to ask, at least in Greta’s opinion.  All eyes turned to the elderly Sisters, the most talented of Oracles in the chapel.  Sister Elpis slowly stood, leaning heavily on her cane.

“I am afraid the Ancient Music is useless against them,” she pronounced in her frail voice.

Marzia proceeded to wail again.  The secretary next to Sister Rosewyen conspicuously put down a checkmark on the roll, causing a wave of laughter throughout the cloister, including Marzia though her tears. 

“So shall we be dying a martyr’s death?” said Sister Delly, the chapel’s master of arms.  A determined mutter of assent came from her protégés, particularly Sister Hope. 

“I would rather we not die so needlessly,” replied Sister Mary softly.  “But unless we can come up with an alternative, I fear that must be our path.”

Silence fell.  Greta could hear rain pattering atop the glass roof, and muffled weeping across the cloister.  Marzia was leaning heavily upon her shoulder, silent tears falling down her dark face.  Looking at her Sisters, who she loved more than family, brought so low, an anger boiled up inside Greta.

“I curse magic!” she thought viciously.  “I curse the Outsider and the pain he brings! I curse Delilah! I curse not being able to curse! How dare you hurt my family! How dare I not be able to protect them!”

The rain intensified with each thought, thunder rolling distantly.  Sister Rosewyn looked ready to say something when lightning struck the roof, blinding everyone present.  Thunder boomed louder than anything Greta had heard in her 27 years alive. Someone, probably nervous Sister Reilly, screamed. 

Greta’s eyes could hardly adjust, as fragments of light traveled across her vision, almost like leaves falling from trees. She squinted, as a new light source seemed to have been added at the center of the cloister, in the middle of the small fish pond.  The room felt a touch warmer, a touch safer.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bernice’s jaw agape, her milky eyes wide as if she had seen a miracle, staring at the GLOWING PERSON standing in the fish pond.

Greta suppressed a scream.  It was not becoming of an Oracular Sister to give in to animal instincts.

“BY THE OUTSIDER’S CROOKED COCK!” cried Sister Hedwig, oldest of the Oracular Order at 99 years of age.  Sister Alice, standing next, to her promptly fainted.  The innermost circle in the cloister scrambled backwards with a yell.  Sister Rosewyn stood rooted to the ground, staring at the luminous intruder.

“Foul magic!” she cried, her face bloodless. “Heretic’s tricks! You are not welcome here!”

“That’s not a nice thing to say to someone who wants to help you,” said the Glowing Person with a pout upon their face.  The voice was musical- in fact, it so reminded Greta of the Ancient Music that the fear in her heart died down.

“Help us?” Delly squeaked out, her square face puce with rage. “Spirits of the void shall not help US!”

The Glowing Person looked taken aback. “Me? From the Void? By the Music, no!”

“That sounds like something an evil spirit would say!” cried mousy Sister Eileen, a fierce look on her face. 

“Let them present their case,” argued Sister Mary, her voice even and calm.  Every eye was turned to her in disbelief.  Greta found her breath stolen by her mentor’s audacity.

“Are we not the minds of the Abbey?” Sister Mary continued. “Those who interpret dreams, divine events?  Can we not always explain the things we see, or the things we learn?”

“Are you arguing that there is another source of power other than the Outsider?” asked Sister Elpis, clearly curious. 

There was a beat of silence, and the Glowing Person appeared eager to speak, but kept their mouth shut.

“I am not sure,” replied Sister Mary.  “What proof do we have that the cosmos and stars do not have their own magic?  Is the Ancient Music any less magical than a whaler’s bonecharms?”

“I HAVE ANSWERS FOR THAT!” burst out the Glowing Person, clearly excited.  All eyes turned to them, silently waiting for the answer. Sister Delly hefted her mace, while Hope conspicuously began flipping her pistol. Seeing that they had an audience, the Glowing Person began to speak.

“In the beginning there was two things- the Void, and Energy.  The Void was empty, and held naught but Energy.  Energy created the cosmos, the stars, the earth, the air, and the sea, and all that dwell upon it.  It created the laws the govern all world mortal and world immortal.  The Void held those creations within, like half a shell protecting all Energy had created.  Energy gave the void some of itself to defend its creations; this birthed dark magic.  The final thing Energy was light magic to attach to the stars.  I am the representative of that magic. I have been observing the Abbey of the Everyman since its founding because of your interest in the stars!  I aid in all kinds of prophecy, I am a keeper of time, a singer of the Ancient Music.”  They finished looking quite proud of themselves.

“If you have been watching us for so long, you should know that we have no interest dealing with spirits of any kind,” said Bernice pointedly. 

“But do you prefer being wiped out?” the Glowing Person asked, just as pointed. 

Sisters turned and looked at each other.  Greta looked around the cloister, and considered the options.

“Sisters,” she said, standing up. “It appears that our options so far include staying here and doing nothing, committing our own assault against the witches in the Tower and dying a martyr’s death, or accepting help from a being which is claiming to be the source of some of our miraculous powers. I understand being hesitant to trust a creature which claims such things, for we all know the treachery of the Outsider’s magic.  But I am also tired of being weak to his magic.  Our people deserve better, my Sisters deserve better!”

About fifteen Sisters seemed to be swayed by her argument, including Hope, Marzia, and Bernice.  The eldest Sisters looked uncertain, while the remaining 10 Sisters remained unconvinced.

“I am touched by your desire to see things right, and I know you come from a good place,” said secretary Edna.  “But taking advice and aid from a supernatural being goes against everything that we stand for.”

“The job of the Abbey is to guide the people, and the job of our order is the guide the Abbey,” Sister Elpis uttered gravely.  “We cannot guide the people if we cannot help them.”

“People would not turn to the Outsider if we were able to offer an effective alternative,” Sister Eileen argued.  “And we cannot defeat the magic of the Outsider with technology and faith alone.  We need to be able to offer safety and justice.”

Sister Rosewyn stood quiet throughout the argument, but nodded stiffly to Eileen’s words.  Her cold eyes turned to Sister Hedwig, who looked ready to say something.  The old women smiled a toothless grin and spoke.

“I say we trust this creature.  It speaks like an eager child, and no thing of evil and malice can do that.  I have perceived that Empress Emily is alive in the Serkonos, and what a welcome present it would be if we could end that witch and her coven once and for all! FUCK THE OUTSIDER!”

“FUCK THE OUTSIDER” Greta cried, alongside the rest of her chapel, a grin splitting her face.

“Very well then,” said Sister Rosewyn steadily.  “The chapel has made our decision.  Now, what shall we call you?”

The Glowing Person faded their glow, finally bringing their features into view.  Their skin was warm like baked clay, their hair a glowing yellow.  Wide round eyes of pure white were set on a youthful face, with a broad nose and a wide grin.  “My name is Elanor!  I look forward to working with you to make the world a better place!”


	3. Chapter 2: Emily and Greta

##  Chapter 2: Emily and Greta

Emily’s grip on the skiff’s rudder unconsciously tightened as she approached the grey skyline of Dunwall.  The air was unusually dry, and unnervingly still.  The city of her birth was quiet, frightfully quiet.  It was as if Delilah had gutted the soul of the city, and that very well could be the case.  She docked the skiff, and made her way to the tower.  Bodies of the City Guard were strewn across the street, and the closer she got to the tower, the more she saw the corpses of Overseers as well.  The atmosphere of quiet misery sparked anger in her chest, anger at both Delilah and herself. 

“If only I had seen this coming!” she thought as she scaled the wall into the Tower Gardens.  Emily looked around, using both her natural sight and her Dark Vision, but she could see no threats.  In fact, the witches she could see were lying still on the ground, as if asleep.  She crept close to a small group, curious.  One had a sleep dart in their shoulder; another had bruises upon their neck.  The last two had their skulls bashed in, their faces a mess of blood and brains.  Emily winced, recoiling from the final two.  Something seemed afoot. 

She wandered around the Tower grounds, and it was more or less the same. Witches left unconscious or dead, with little to know indication as to what got them.  There was the odd footprint in the ground, but it could have come from the witches as likely from the assailants.  Emily was not sure whether to be thankful or frightened.  She crept to the Tower door, and slowly entered. 

Indoors was cluttered with furniture and décor strewn about, dim with the lighting of a few candles.  Two witches idly discussed Delilah’s whereabouts and the painting she was working on, and Emily carefully listened until she could hear their footsteps moving away from each other.  She was about to move when she heard a cry and a thump, then one of the witches called out with anger.

“How dare you you sightless bitch!”

 She looked at the room with her Dark vision, and saw what appeared to be two women locked in combat.  The eyes of one of the women appeared to glow, and that women put the other in a chokehold.  The body soon went limp and the struggle was over.

“Is this my ally?” Emily thought.  It was unnerving, not knowing for sure. Her gut told her to play it safe, so she prepared to slink off.

“I see you, crouching down there!” called a youthful, friendly voice.  “If you are no witch, then I am a friend!”

Emily froze behind the couch, unsure what to do.  Before she could decide there was a rapid pace of footsteps towards her place, and as she looked up, Emily was greeted with the sight of a red-haired Oracular Sister peering down at her with a large smile.  Emily stood, still wary.

“I take it that you are responsible for the witches outside?” Emily asked.

“Me and my chapel,” the Sister answered, shifting her mace to one hand and offering the free one to shake.  “I am Sister Greta Manderly.  We are here to get rid of Delilah and welcome back Empress Emily, who should be coming from Serkonos at any time to retake the throne.”

Relief and confusion flooded Emily, and she pulled down her mask.  “Well I certainly appreciate the support!” she said, taking Greta’s hand and shaking it. Greta’s jaw dropped and she immediately dropped into a curtsey. 

“Empress!” she stuttered, her freckled cheeks flushing red. “I cannot believe you are here! Not that we are not glad to have you, but there is grave danger here!”

Emily waved a hand, silently bidding Greta to rise.  “I can handle myself.  It is surprising to see that the Oracular Sisters are able to handle themselves against the witches.”

Greta straightened, looking proud and eager to please.  “We have found silence and surprise to be our greatest assets.  We have been doing our best to carefully neutralize the coven so Delilah will not have anyone to call on.”

Emily nodded, pleased with the Sisters’ strategy.  “While in Serkonos I found a way to defeat Delilah, but seems she is up to something big, and was using the chapel in the Tower to do it.  You may join me in investigating if you wish.”

“I am honored to join you!” Greta pronounced with pride, her chest puffed up.  The Sister then put on a serious face.  “The swiftest way to the chapel is through the banquet Hall, but none of my Sisters have been through that floor yet.  There are several Clockwork soldiers within the Tower as well, so there can be some patrolling that area. We have spent most of our time outside and in the basement”

“Thank you for the intel,” Emily said as she went over and climbed the blockaded entrance to the main hall.  Corpses of servants dangled from the chandeliers, and Emily fought the rising feelings of disgust and anger as she carefully crept along the wall.  Greta followed close behind.  The Outsider’s Mark burned oh so slightly atop her hand, and Emily was suddenly reminded that the Abbey rabidly hated the Outsider and his magics.

“Great,” she mentally groaned as she dropped down to the marble floor.  “I cannot use my gifts so long as the Sister is around, watching me.”

They passed bright blue markings on the floor, a semi-circle in front of a statue of Delilah.  Behind that, there was yet another barricade.  Greta let out a long sigh, and turned her blindfolded face to Emily. 

“How about this? You can go through the banquet hall to the chapel, and I can go through the music room and the inner hall to get to the chapel?”

“Thank the Outsider!” Emily thought in relief.  Outwardly, she gave a stiff nod while looking up at the top of the barricade.  “That is a sound plan.  We shall meet in the chapel in twenty minutes. If either one of use does not show, you know where to look.”

“Alright,” agreed Greta.  “Stay safe Empress.”

***

Emily arrived at the chapel first, which she expected.  The gruesome mock banquet boiled her blood, and it was with great pleasure that she knocked each witch out from the rafters above.  She hoped Greta was alright.

The chapel was much changed from how she remembered it.  A tree grew from the middle, but it kept to the lower bounds, not stretching up past the chandelier.  Potted plants, sacks of pigment, workbenches and a painting transformed the staid place of worship into an art studio.  An audiograph sat on one of the workbenches, and with a tap Emily played it.

“It worked!” uttered Delilah’s voice, sounding all the world like a satisfied cat.  “I painted the chapel, but added a tree to the painting. After arranging the runes across the chair, both pure and corrupted, I was able to transpose the chapel made of paint with the one made of stone.  With more runes, I should be able to do the same to all the empire.  This will be my greatest undertaking.  Transposing my painting –The World as it Should Be- with this wretched dung heap we are all born into.  At last, all will be made proper and good.”

A chill ran down Emily’s spine upon hearing the words.  So, this was Delilah’s plan.  And it seemed close to fruition. 

At that moment Greta opened the chapel doors and slid in, out of breath.  She lifted her green blindfold up to gape at the chapel.

“What on earth happened to this place?” she asked, her voice hushed with disbelief.

“This will explain it,” said Emily grimly, before pressing the play button on the audiograph again.  She watched as horror bloomed across Greta’s pale face. 

“We have to stop her!” she hissed, a desperate look in her eyes, her blindfold pushed up like a headband. 

Emily picked up a scrap of paper next to audiograph, reading it carefully.

“I think I have an idea,” she said.  Greta went up to her side, and read the paper.

“Oh must we craft a corrupt rune?” the Sister said anxiously.  “I don’t like that there is so much dark magic here already, must we add to it?”

“Do you know how to make a pure rune that will sabotage Delilah’s magic?” Emily retorted somewhat testily.  “Delilah has delivered us her downfall, do you really want to risk it all just to avoid a little more magic?”

Greta looked torn, and even a little sick.  She audibly swallowed and whispered: “Alright.  If this will save the Isles, then we can do this.”

Emily smiled at the Sister, pleased she was seeing reason.  She turned and easily enough found a skull and algae, and placed them on what looked like an alter.  Greta grabbed a fistful of pigment, and sprinkled it over them.  The Sister’s blindfold was on again, and she seemed to be muttering the Strictures.  Emily tried to restrain from rolling her eyes. As the last grains of pigment fell, an orange light curled around the items, and the dissolved and were remade again as symbols glowed underneath.  The corrupt rune lay before them, and Emily pocketed it. 

“I’m going to the throne room,” she told Greta, who was making a valiant effort not to look composed.  “I suggest you find your Sisters, and join me there later.” 

“A wise idea Empress,” Greta replied, her voice a squeak.  “Some of my sisters are nearby and heading up to the third floor.  We’ll make sure no one interferes with you and Delilah.  Good luck my Empress!”

The Sister carefully snuck out of the chapel, and Emily noticed her shudder as she left.  With the rune pulsing in her pocket, she reached up with her gifts and went up to the next level.  It was time to confront Delilah. 


	4. Chapter 3: The Void Shudders

##  Chapter 3: The Void Shudders

The Outsider watched Emily make her way up to the throne room, evading witches and disarming Clockwork soldiers.  She was certainly impressive, and delightfully interesting.  All the opportunities to kill and slaughter, and yet she was merciful and kind.  She offered comfort and courage to a servant hiding from the witches; his mere presence steeled her determination to end Delilah’s reign.

He reclined in the endless Void, and noted that he was tense.

“Curious,” he thought.  Delilah winning would mean he would never be rid of her, and the very idea irked him to his bones.  The witch was far too insidious to be left uncontained, and it would please him most not having to deal with her himself.  “Perhaps this is what it feels like to have a stake in things.”

But no matter.  He was unusually confident that Emily would get rid of Delilah.  Crovo’s daughter had made it far, and proved her strength and intelligence.  If anyone was to be the witch’s match, it would be Emily.  She had yet to let him down, like so many of the other Marked had in the past.

The Outsider found himself leaning forward as he watched Emily return Delilah’s spirit to her body and follow her into the painting, that strange manipulation of the Void.  He had seen such pockets created before, and he knew how to contain them.  As Emily knocked out copy after copy, and finally the real Delilah, he understood her path. 

“What a kindness you are giving her,” he murmured aloud, deeply amused.  “She will have everything she wanted within her painting.”

 It was a tidy solution, producing a fortunate end. He felt his attention waning as the path became clear, but he felt he owed it to himself to watch it to its close.  Emily placed Delilah on the throne, and removed the rune from her pocket.  

A jolt ran up the Outsider’s spine as soon as he saw the rune.  That magic was not his.  Oh, it looked like it on the surface, but it most certainly wasn’t.   Fear bubbled within him for the first time in four thousand years, and he lurched into the world mortal with as much speed as he could muster.

“Emily, no!” he cried, his hand reached out to stop her. 

But it was too late.  She already placed the rune on the throne. 

The response was instantaneous.  Light consumed the throne and a shockwave pushed him and Emily back.  Delilah rose up, conscious again, and completely unaware that something was wrong.  She cackled and gloated, walking into the painting, which sealed up after her.  The light faded, and all was quiet. 

Emily turned to him, surprised to see him.  Her mouth opened, clearly to question his presence.  He held up a finger to silence her. She immediately closed her mouth.  The Outsider rose, and walked over to the painting, which now had Delilah sitting on her throne, looking satisfied.  Maybe he was wrong, and there was no danger.  He let out a sigh of relief.

Then the Void shuddered.

The runes on the throne began to explode, bursting outwards before being sucked into the Void.  The rune Emily had added was shaking wildly and sparking with electricity.  A corner of his mind that was watching Delilah’s pocket saw the boundaries impossibly contract, shrinking down to a size so small his black eyes could barely perceive it. 

“The painting!” gasped Emily. 

The Outsider turned and saw the canvas was blank, blank if not for the smallest dot, right in the center. 

“This cannot be good,” he heard himself murmur aloud. 

Part of him felt tight, and he could not tell if it was his emotions, his magic, or the Void itself.  The thought frightened him. He held his breath, and willed himself to be calm. 

That was his last thought before a wave of searing, agonizing heat exploded across his body, and it took all his willpower not to scream.  He crumpled to the ground, his eyes shut tight and teeth gritted against the pain.  This was magic, and it most certainly was not his. 

***

Emily watched in horror as the Outsider collapsed just as the now-white canvas exploded into light and faded away.  She ran over to him, seeing bright shackles form upon his wrists and ankles, the chains broken and dangling loosely.  His face was screwed up and slick with sweat- the Outsider was clearly in pain, and Emily found herself fearing for him. Not knowing what else to do, she picked him up and hefted him over her shoulder.  She could feel him burning through her clothes like a furnace, and trembling like a leaf; an unwilling moan escaped from his mouth. 

“I need to put him in a safe place,” she thought, shooting a pained look at her father. “I will be back soon, I promise.”

Emily got into the elevator, and prayed that she wouldn’t run into any of the Oracular Sisters.  She headed to her quarters, hoping that they weren’t too damaged.  She crept inside, and felt a wave of relief that nobody was inside.  Emily immediately headed to the safe room, and opened it.  Much to her surprise, she was not greeted by the stench of rotting flesh.  From the looks of it, the witches had somehow entered the Safe Room and removed Ramsey’s corpse from it.  It was filled instead with dried bits fragrant plants.  Emily chuckled at the idea of the rot so bothering Delilah that she cleaned up the place. 

Emily carefully lowered the Outsider onto the cot, and laid him down.  His black eyes opened, and he peered feverishly at her. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice a strained whisper. 

“Trying to help you,” she replied, walking over to the small sink and picking up the towel hanging beside it.  She soaked the towel with cold water, wrung it out and folded it, before placing it on his head.  His face relaxed a bit, and confusion flickered in his dark eyes.

“You feel like you have a fever.” Emily said gently, responding to the unasked question.  “This should help at least a little bit. Do you know what is wrong?”

The Outsider stared at the ceiling, and licked his lips.  Emily spotted a glass and filled it up with water, offering it to him.  He nodded, and Emily helped him sit up to drink it.  He drank hesitantly at first, then greedily.  It occurred to her that the Outsider had not needed a drink for at least 4000 years. 

He handed the glass back to her, his hand trembling slightly.  Emily gently laid him back down. “That rune you placed on Delilah’s throne,” he said weakly.  “That wasn’t corrupted with my magic.  Something else interfered, and I do not know what it is. I feel like I’m burning, like the Void is burning.”  His voice wavered at the end, and Emily noticed with surprise that his eyes were wet with unshed tears.

 “It hurts”   he whispered. 

Emily reached out with her Marked hand and held his. It didn’t feel right to leave him alone, but she needed to free her father and talk to Greta about the rune. 

“I have to leave for a while,” she said gently, feeling the Outsider grip her hand tightly as she spoke.  “I need to free my father, and talk to the Oracular Sister who made the rune with me.  I will be back as soon as possible.  There should be plenty of water, and I’ll bring some food in too.  You will be safe in here.”

Emily gave his hand a squeeze, then let go. The Outsider loosened his grip and closed his eyes, pain still evident on his face.  As she stood and turned to leave, Emily heard him whisper:

“Thank you.”


	5. Chapter 4: A Secret Shared

##  Chapter 4: A Secret Shared

Greta arrived to the throne room alongside the fifteen sisters who went on the mission to purge the coven from the tower. There was considerable excitement from the Sisters when she met up with them on the upper staircase and told them that Empress Emily was here herself.  Greta made no mention of the corrupted rune, only that the Empress had a plan and Delilah would be finished. 

Sister Delly shoved the heavy doors of the throne room wide open, and all gasped at the sight of twisted tree trunks and stone statues of petitioners.  Greta could discern the Empress sitting on the step before her throne, with the Royal Protector beside her. 

“Look!” said Bernice, pointing to the statues.  Stone seemed to peel away, and people stumbled back into being.  Sister Eileen ran to the aid of a particularly feeble man who looked ready to collapse. 

“Empress Emily!” cried one of the petitioners.  “You’re back!”

The Empress stood, a small smile on her face.  “Indeed, I am back.  I have defeated Delilah, with the help of allies in Serkonos, and the Oracular Sisters of Dunwall.  You may return to your families, much must be done to repair Dunwall.”

Each petitioner bowed, and slowly left the throne room.  Sister Delly lead them forward, and together the Sisters bowed before the Empress.

“Hail Empress Emily, long may she reign!” Greta said alongside her sisters. They waited to be permitted to stand, and with a wave they did.

“I would like to thank you all for your help with the coven,” began the Empress, her tone regal.  “I have had the pleasure of fighting alongside Sister Manderly in particular, but I would like to know all your names.” She gestured to Sister Delly to start.

“I am Sister Karen Delly, your Majesty.”

“I am Sister Eileen Fisher, your Majesty.”

“I am Sister Hope Donell, your Majesty.”

“I am Sister Bernice Wilder, your Majesty.”

Greta zoned out as her Sisters continued their introductions, but her eyes were drawn to the tree trunk that arched over the throne.  There were odd circular holes straight through places on the trunk.  Greta would have assumed that was the result of the magic, if not for the fact that the corrupted rune she and the Empress made was still very much there.  She looked at it and shuddered, hating that she had a part in creating something so vile. 

Greta felt a pair of eyes on her, and turned to see the Royal Protector was staring at her. She immediately averted her eyes and straightened her spine.  Something about him felt off to her, but she did not feel the need to dwell upon it.  Everything about the room was off, from the large empty gilded frame leaning against the wall, to the electric-scorched throne.  The whole tower would need a deep cleaning in order to feel habitable again. 

A nudge at her elbow brought Greta back to attention.  The Empress was addressing all of them.

“You may of course remove the bodies of your dead Brothers, and see to their honorable burials.  I will rally what is left of the city watch and imprison the witches left alive and have them tried for their crimes.  The dead must be buried before we can move on.  I hope to receive any guidance you can offer me.”

“Of course, your Majesty,” replied Sister Delly humblely.  “We have taken the liberty of binding up the living witches, and with your permission shall bring them to Coldridge.  I have taken the liberty of sending Sister Cabrini to fetch help from out Sisters and remaining Brothers in the city and beyond to help with the cleanup and healing.”

“You certainly have my permission,” the Empress answered. “Your decision to send Sister Cabrini to fetch help was well made, and I thank you for the help you and the Abbey sends.  I would like to ask a small favor of your chapel.”

If any Sister’s attention was wandering before it came right back to fully focus on the Empress.  What could she ask of the Oracular Sisters, and would it be something they might have to refuse?

“I have found Sister Manderly to be deeply helpful, and would like for her to stay on as a liaison between the Crown and the Abbey.”

Greta felt her heart skip a beat.  Did the Empress just request for her service?

Sister Delly shot a smile at her, which calmed some of the anxiety in her gut.  “I am personally delighted that you have found our Order to be of service, and Sister Manderly is one of our most promising members. She is skilled in both mind and mace. I beg that you allow her free travel from the tower to the chapel, as our libraries may help her answer your questions, and our minds can help hers broaden.”

The Empress nodded, looking thoughtful.  Then her gaze, and the gaze of all her sisters turned to Greta.

“What say you, Sister Manderly?”

A smile crossed her face before she curtsied before her Empress.  “I, Sister Greta Manderly, am honored by your request and humbly offer to serve you best I can.”

***

Her sisters departed, leaving Greta alone with the Empress and Royal Protector. the Empress turned to him and asked:

“Do you mind finding food for us?  I know I am quite famished, and I would be surprised if you are too.”

He bowed, but looked worried. “Are you sure you are safe?”

A loving, yet teasing smile crossed the Empress’ face. “Quite sure.  Sister Manderly here is quite skilled with a mace.”

Greta felt her cheeks warm at the compliment, and the Royal Protector gave a small smile before leaving.

The Empress turned to her, tall and regal. “Now, how would you preferred to be addressed, Sister Manderly?”

Greta offered a teasing grimace and a smile. “Sister Manderly is too long, I prefer to be called Sister Greta, or just Greta.”

The Empress smiled back, a teasing glint in her eye. “Alright just Greta.  Alone, you may call me Emily, but if anyone else is in the room, it is your Majesty or Empress.”

Greta a surprised and honored by such a gift, and told the Empress, no, Emily, as such.

Her teasing smile faded, and she strode up to the throne, to the rune they made. 

“I find myself in need of a confidant,” Emily confessed. “And I believe we are both bound together by this rune we made.  Know this, Greta; the magic of this rune comes not from the void.”

She then tried to remove it, but yanked her hand back suddenly with a yelp.  The tips of Emily’s fingers were bright red as if she had touched a hot iron.  Greta stayed glued to her spot, a sinking feeling in the back of her mind.

“You were muttering something as you added the pigment to the rune,” Emily continued, somewhat breathlessly.  “What was it?”

Greta combed her mind, but it came up curiously blank.  Worry seeped even further into her. “I thought it was the Strictures, but when I try to remember, nothing is there.” Greta couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.  But something the Empress said jumped out to her.

“Wait, how do you know that this magic isn’t from the void?” Greta asked.  Emily looked caught off guard and slightly defensive.

“It did not act like the rest of Delilah’s magic,” she replied, somewhat curt, her eyes narrowed. 

Immediately Greta knew that Emily knew far more about Void magic than she would ever admit to anyone, let alone a representative of the Abbey.  It did not seem the right time to press that point though, even to let the Empress know her secret was safe with little Greta Manderly. 

Greta gave a nod, and brought her thumb to her chin as she got up close and peered at the thing. She could feel heat and power radiating off the rune, and that oddly made her shiver. 

“That is very good to know,” Greta said.  “But it seems as long as we do not touch it, we shall be fine.”

Emily did not look at all satisfied with that answer.  “That’s it?”

Greta shrugged. “I’m not sure what else you want me to do with it.  It defeated Delilah right?  And it’s not causing harm-“

“But it is!” Emily cried, cutting Greta off mid-sentence.  Her impassioned look took the Sister by surprise.  There was a beat of silence, and Greta reminded herself that she had just offered to serve the Empress the best she could.  But her curiosity must first be sated.

“Your Majesty, I promise that I will do everything I can to help you, but I can do little if I do not know to what or whom it is causing harm.”

A flicker of nervousness crossed Emily’s face, before she suddenly offered her pinky. “You swear you will not breathe a word of what I show you to any living soul?”

Greta immediately hooked the offered pinky with hers. “I swear it.”


	6. Chapter 5: Meeting the Outsider

##  Chapter 5: Meeting the Outsider

Emily led Greta to her quarters, keeping a brisk pace.  The Sister clearly knew something, and seemed hesitant to solve the mystery unless her need for physical proof was met.  She sincerely hoped she was not making a mistake.

Emily stopped in front of the safe room door, and turned to Greta, who was watching her expectantly.

“Leave your mace out here,” she commanded, placing a hand on her hip.  Greta leaned the weapon against the wall, a curious look on her face. Emily breathed in deeply before placing her ring in the lock and opening the door. 

She walked into the dim safe room- the first time she was here she was far too much in a rush to light candles.  Greta surprised her by yanking out a box of matches and merrily lighting candles. 

“I am guessing from our location that you will be showing me a person rather than a thing?” Greta asked, her voice light and almost teasing.

Emily almost wanted to smile, but nerves kept her from doing so.  “Come,” she said, gesturing with her head.  The curtains were drawn, separating the small living space from the rest of the room. Emily waited until Greta stood beside her before she pulled back the curtain.

***

It was so hot.  The Void no longer burned with the same agonizing sharpness as before, but it burned all the same.

His flesh burned.  His boots felt confining, so off they went.  His jacket was too tight, so off it came.  The shirt and undershirt were drenched with sweat, so off they came as well.  The soft cot was too warm, so he lay on the floor.  But even that was not enough.

“Illness truly does strip oneself of their dignity,” The Outsider thought, as he removed all that covered him and stuck his head under the faucet, desperate for some relief.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he recalls hearing was two feminine shrieks. 

“Why are you showing me a naked man?!” screamed an unfamiliar voice. 

“He wasn’t naked when I left him here!” cried Emily. She sounded exceedingly embarrassed.

The Outsider slowly removed he head from the sink and opened his eyes.  His vision was bleary at first, but he could make out a short woman with red hair, her hands over her eyes, which was further blocked with a green blindfold.  He looked to Emily, and they briefly made eye contact.  She turned bright red and immediately adverted her gaze.

“Make yourself decent,” she grumbled, walking over to the cot and tossing a blanket on him, her eyes determinedly looking elsewhere. 

It occurred to him that he should be embarrassed, or feeling some sort of shame.  However he was simply just too warm to care.

“Twenty seven years,” he heard the other women moan. “Twenty seven blissfully ignorant years, all gone in a single moment!”

“I know, it must be hard for a person of faith to meet the Outsider,” Emily said, sounding tired.

“What? No!” the other person looked at Emily, an oddly befuddled expression on her face. “I meant seeing a naked man! I’ve made it TWENTY SEVEN YEAR- wait did you just say ‘Meet the Outsider’?” 

 The women lifted the green blindfold from her eyes, and stared at him like he was an incomprehensible book. 

“Greta, this is the Outsider,” introduced Emily politely.  “Outsider, this is Greta, a sister of the Oracular Order.”

Any other time he would have relished meeting one of those zealots, if only to see their reaction to him.  Right now, he just lifted his hand in greeting, then carefully fit his head back under the faucet.  It was far too hot to pay attention. 

***

Emily watched Greta’s face transform from bemused, to shocked, to horrified, then finally accepting.

“By his not so crooked cock he’s here,” Greta squeaked, turning to Emily. “Right in front of us!”

“Will you please not remark his genitalia?” she muttered testily with an eye roll. 

The sister went silent, looked at the Outsider, then looked back at her.  “Are you two lovers?”

Emily sputtered. “What?! No! He marked me to help me take back my throne, that’s all!”

“Oooooh,” Greta at least had the manners to look sheepish.  “So you’re helping him out as a return favor, for all the help he gave you?”

Emily thought about it.  “He just appeared in the throne room after I added the rune, and he was in so much pain that I just did not have the heart to not help him,” she quietly explained, looking at the Outsider sprawled on the ground, his eyes closed as cold water flooded over his short dark hair and pale face.

Greta nodded.  There was a comfortable silence as the two women looked at the Outsider. 

“He would probably be happier in a bathtub,” commented Greta. 

“We can’t just leave the Outsider in a random bathtub!” Emily hissed, somewhat scandalized.

“We could bring a bathtub to him,” Greta argued.  “I know someone that can help, but we need him conscious and well enough to talk.”

“Is that someone human?” Emily asked, suspicious.

“Nope, not in the slightest,” Greta replied, serious. “We’re basically alone in the tower, the witches are cleared out and gone.  I can go find a tub and bring it here.”

Emily sighed, won over. “My bathroom should still be functioning. Go check it out, we’ll be up shortly.”


	7. Chapter 6: The Star and the Void

##  Chapter 6: The Star and the Void

Greta was right.  The Outsider looked so much happier in the cold bathtub.  His eyes were still closed, but he looked content.  Emily tried very hard not to think how naked he was. 

“Naked except for those shackles of light,” whispered some part of her mind, giggling with glee.

A lazy smile crossed the Outsider’s face, and his black eyes opened oh so slightly.  “What a thought indeed,” he murmured, his voice somewhat husky.

Emily felt heat flood her face, and she wanted nothing more than to shove him like they were children in a playground.  Instead she focused on Greta, who seemed to be doing a weird dance routine. 

The Outsider sat forward, the water sloshing gently as he moved.  “What on earth is the Zealot doing?” he asked, sounding more amused than curious.

“Trying to summon the spirit she said could help answer our questions,” Emily replied, watching Greta out in her bedroom flip, one, twice, then land hard on the ground with a thud.   Emily winced.

“I’m ok!” she called out, raising her right hand up in a thumbs up.  Greta immediately picked herself up, and walked into the bathroom, looking put out.

“No luck?” Emily probed gently.

“I don’t understand,” Greta said.  “Maybe I’m doing it wrong…”  She walked over to the sink, picked up a piece of paper, and handed it to Emily. “Can you hold this up please?”

Emily took it and held it up so Greta could easily read it.  She could practically feel the smug amusement radiating off the Outsider, making her want to dunk his head underwater.

Greta took a step back, peering at the paper. As she read the lines aloud, she moved.

“Left, Right, Left, Right

Around the World, Side to Side

Cross your wrists, move around

Then you go upside down.”

Greta ended by sticking her right hand into the air, a frustrated look on her face.  Just as she did that, her hand and eyes began to glow bright yellow.  A bright light bloomed above her hand, growing to the size of a person.  Finally the light died down, and the glow left Greta’s hand and eyes.  The person drifted down, appearing like a thin woman with the skin of baked clay, hair of glowing yellow, and eyes of pure white.  She wore a long skirt and short top, and had a winning smile.

“I have been caaaaalled,” she sang, opening her arms wide like an opera singer. The Outsider winced, and Emily did do, just a bit.

“Emily, Outsider, this is Elanor,” Greta introduced, looking rather sheepish.  “Elanor has given us the ability to see what our sisters see, and to block magic.”

“Goodness!” said Elanor, peering at the Outsider.  She seemed to stretch out until her face came mere inches from his.  “So, this is the deity of the Void.  Is your cock really crooked?”

A look of anger took over the Outsider’s face and he lunged forward, looking ready to strangle her.

Elanor yelped and snapped back.  Emily grabbed the Outsider from behind, and was nearly pulled into the tub as he pushed forward.

“How is he so damn strong?!” she thought. 

“Have you _seen_ his muscles?” retorted another thought.

Emily yanked him back, her embarrassment fueling her. The Outsider sank back down, his face dark with anger. She noted she was soaked from the effort of pacifying him, and was thankful she still wore her waterproof coat.

“That was very rude Elanor!” Greta snapped.  “Apologize!”

Elanor bowed at the waist, a contrite look about her. “Deity of the Void known as the Outsider, I would like to offer my apology for the way I greeted you. I did not intend to cause offense, and I am truly sorry.”

All eyes turned to the Outsider, who glared at the glowing women.  “Tell me what you did to the Void, and maybe I will consider accepting your apology.”

Elanor looked truly confused. “I will help where I can, but I assure you, my power should have no effect on the Void. “

“Then why does it feel like everything is burning?” he sneered. 

Elanor turned to Greta.  “What happened?”

“Emily and I made a corrupted rune to defeat the witch Delilah by trapping her in her painted world,” Greta answered.  “Only, it seems that something has gone wrong.”

Elanor went from lost to serious. “Where is the rune?”

“Up in the throne-” Emily started to say, but she flashed and was gone. In another flash, Elanor returned, holding the rune in her hand.

“I think I understand what happened,” Elanor said carefully. “What this rune did was turn the pocket dimension into a supernova, or an exploding star.”

The Outsider looked flatly at Elanor. “An exploding star?” he drawled

“Yes, an exploding star!” Elanor snapped.  “Look mister void god, there might be only one of you but there are many of us!”

His black eyes stared blankly at her.  Elanor huffed.  “Stars! I’m a star; I am one of the keepers of time, and a singer of the Ancient Music!  You could say I’m an equally powerful opposite of you.”

Emily crossed her arms.  “If that is true, how come no one has ever heard of you before?”

“We do not have any reason to tamper with human life.  We exist, we keep time, and we sing,” Elanor answered with a sniff. “Unlike the Void, we don’t receive the dead.”

“Nor do you seem to inspire magic,” the Outsider commented, a shrewd look on his face.

Elanor bit her lip, and looked at Greta.  Greta shrugged.

“You have the answers Elanor.”

Elanor looked uneasy as she spoke.  “Our magic is to largely combat the Void.  Sometimes, when our elders die, they collapse upon themselves in such a way that they break into the void.  They suck everything into them, and nothing can escape their grasp once caught.  We can form barriers and prevent some from getting bigger, but not much else.”

“The Void is infinite.  All came from it, and all shall return to it,” uttered the Outsider dryly. 

“That’s what makes it so curious that you’re in pain all over,” Greta interjected, her red brows furrowed. “So, this is only a small section of the Void that exploded?  Why isn’t only a small part of you hurting?”

The Outsider grit his teeth at the reminder. “I do not know.  All I know is everything burns.”

Emily saw Elanor become very still, and very pale. She raised her hand slightly, all her focus on the Outsider

“Can you describe how the pocket dimension exploded?” she asked, her voice very quiet.

The Outsider lifted his hands out of the water, the glowing shackles pulsating with light. 

“First, it got very small,” he started, putting his hands together to make a pinhole.  “The Void felt tight as it did so, like it was pulling it in. Then,” he yanked his hands apart. “it was like being covered by a wave of fire.”

Elanor looked very serious and not the least bit fearful.  “We need to get those shackles off you, right now.   Greta, grab one and stretch it.  Emily, pull his hand out when it gets wide enough.”

Greta darted forward and seized the left shackle, gritting her teeth and groaning as she pulled it slowly wide.  Emily held his arm steady as it jerked and trembled, each touch of his made it smaller.

“Come on you stupid thing!” screamed Greta, fighting it just wide enough.  Emily yanked it through and the Outsider screamed in pain.  Patterns appeared on the pale skin of his arm, wrapping up his shoulder and down his chest. Emily moved to the right arm, and held it tight.

“You can do this,” she murmured to the Outsider. “It will be over before you know it.”

He gave her a small nod, before his face contorted one more in pain as Greta stretched the right shackle.  This time Emily had to fight the interference of the left arm trying to stop Greta.

“Can you help out here?” Emily gritted out to Elanor as she leaned across the bathtub, trying to grab the left wrist, which seemed to develop a mind of its own. 

“I literally cannot touch him or we will both die,” replied Elanor, a pained look on her face.  “Me telling you what to do is the most I _can_ do.”

“Now!” cried Greta, and Emily yanked his right hand out. The Outsider screamed like it had been cut off, and pulled it to his chest.  Another series of patterns bloomed from his wrist, up his shoulders, and down his chest. He was breathing heavily, his black eyes half lidded.

“Two down, two more to go!” Greta chirped with false cheer.  She reached down and with surprising zeal yanked his left ankle up, pulling his head underwater.  Emily immediately grabbed his calf and ankle, and seconds later yanked his foot free.  Like clockwork they immediately grabbed his right, and pulled the final shackle off him.  Each dispersed into fragments of light. 

“YES!” screamed Greta, jumping up and offering her hand up for a high five.  Emily gave it, feeling tired but gleeful.

“Someone should pull him uuuuup,” sung Elanor nervously, looking into the bath.

“Oh shit,” Emily cursed, and pulled him up from under his shoulders. His eyes were closed, and he was still.  Too still.

“He can’t have drowned, could he?” asked Greta, worried. 

“Maybe he’s just passed out from the pain,” Elanor suggested. 

Emily arranged his head to lie on the rim of the tub, and brushed aside his bangs.  He looked less tortured, more peaceful. After a moment she turned to Elanor.

“What were those shackles, and why were they so important to remove?”

Elanor folded her hands, and looked grim. “Those shackles are meant to tie him to that void, to embody that void rather than the Void proper.  What makes those is a magic far beyond my ken.  What was so dangerous about them is that what happened in his void was not a supernova.  It was a big bang.”

There was silence as Emily tried to process the information.  Greta seemed to get a handle faster than her.

“A big bang?  What is that?”  she asked, eyes alight with curiosity.

“It is when a void ceases to be a void, rather it is filled with energy and matter,” Elanor said.  “If he was to remain tied to that place, it would have killed him.”

“So…” said Emily, her brain hurting as tried to understand. “The Void is no more?”

“ _His_ void is no more, the void he once embodied,” Elanor replied gently.  “He still has his powers, he still has his immortality, for the Void is infinite.  But right now, a whole new universe is being born in his void, and it will take a while for the Void proper to get back to its rightful place.  All he can do now is sit tight and wait for its return.”


	8. Chapter 7: Stuck

##  Chapter 7: Stuck

When the Outsider came to, he shivered at the chill.  The bathroom was empty, the door closed.  He sat up in the chilly water, and looking to his left he saw his clothes neatly folded atop a table, and boots neatly arrange beneath them.  No longer did he feel the feverish burn; no longer did he feel the Void. 

Wait, there it was.  So distant that it might as well not be there at all.  Its whispers were so faint he had to strain to hear them.  It was reassuring to hear them.

Something had changed.  He shivered again, and tried to put a pin on what was different. 

“Perhaps you can think better if you get out of the freezing water,” a part of him suggested mockingly. 

Ah, that is what is different.  He had a body again, a physical form.  The Outsider stepped out of the tub and dried himself off, noting the sensation of being wet and cold, and how nice it felt to be dry again.

Was his spirit elsewhere?  He reached out and found it resting within, nestled in quiet void each creature had within themselves.  This too reassured him. 

As the Outsider got dressed, he noticed his underclothes were different, not his own.  He put them on, noting they were clean and comfortable.  Once fully dressed he felt more like himself again, and the last few hours seemed more like a nightmare than reality. 

He was sharply reminded that was not the case when he reached to the distant Void and tried to pull himself back to its comforting embrace, only to hit a wall of heat and pain.

Alright.  Much more had changed, beyond him getting a physical form and Void becoming distant.  He scraped his mind, trying to remember what happened.   There was the rune; Delilah’s pocket dimension compressing, then exploding; Heat and pain, Emily, water, Emily, that rude being of light, the shackles, Emily, pain, water, then nothing.

He shuddered, and was unable to keep a frown from his face.  This was the first time in four thousand years that he did not know the answer to something, and he hated it.  What irked him even further was that a mortal knew more about the situation than he did.

There was nothing left to do but find Emily and get answers.  It wouldn’t do to get spotted and cause panic.  Dealing with the ensuing chaos would be yet another annoyance he most certainly did not need. 

Much to his relief, his power of sight seemed to work.  Nobody was in the chambers beyond, or wandering the nearby hallway.  Emily seemed to be in the kitchen with two other people, one was Corvo; the other was that Oracular Sister that helped remove those shackles; Greta, he recalled. He focused on the empty space near them, and willed himself there.

Corvo jumped as he appeared, a wary expression on his face, his lips parted as he was going to ask why the Outsider was here.

“Good to see you awake,” Emily greeted, effectively cutting her father off.

“And dressed,” added the red-haired Zealot behind her teacup, punctuating that remark with a sip and raised eyebrows.

Emily shot a warning look at the woman, while Corvo simply gaped.  The Outsider resisted rolling his eyes.  Emily turned back to him and offered an apologetic look.

“We have some fruit and a couple tins of jellied eels if you are hungry,” she said, gesturing to the crate of pears. 

“Perhaps later,” he replied, folding his hands behind his back. He was about to ask Emily of the matter at hand when the Sister began to speak.

“Now is probably a good time to brief the Royal Protector and the Outsider of the situation, Empress,” she suggested, fiddling with a teaspoon. 

“Yes indeed, Emily,” agreed Corvo.  “What on Earth is the Outsider doing here, and why doesn’t he seem to know himself?”

Emily inhaled deeply before she spoke. “The Outsider is stuck here.”

“Stuck?” he heard himself say at the same time as Corvo.

“The rune we used to trap Delilah was tainted by magic from the stars, or at least it felt like it,” explained Greta as she made a new cup of tea. Her stirring was maddening. “It basically turned Delilah’s pocket dimension into a type of explosion that destroyed the void the Outsider was attached to, and displaced the Void proper.”

The Outsider found himself rubbing his temples, and Corvo looked painfully lost. Emily just looked at Greta expectantly.  The Sister turned flustered.

“Alright, so to destroy a void you have to make it not a void, so fill it up with something,” she tried.

“The Void is filled with things,” the Outsider snapped.

“Do those things feel strange or foreign?” probed Greta.  “Do they hurt you?”

“Of course not; they are a part of me,” he retorted, annoyed.

“To amend my point, to destroy a void you have to fill it up with something foreign to it,” the Sister stated with new confidence.  “From what I can tell, something took advantage of Emily and I making the rune and Delilah’s painting to introduce foreign matter into the Outsider’s void and destroy it.”

Corvo looked like he understood more of what was going on.  He folded his hands and leaned on the counter. 

“You keep saying ‘the Outsider’s void’,” he said carefully. “But the Outsider _is_ the Void. Either it was destroyed or it wasn’t”

The Outsider nodded in agreement, folding his arms across his chest.  He idly wondered if he could still float, and found that he could.  Emily looked over at him and seemed amused to see him reclining in the air.

“Do you need to destroy every part of a human to kill them?” Greta raised an eyebrow and quirked a smile before sipping her tea. 

The Outsider recalled with a jolt that Delilah’s little pocket dimension was close to the Ritual Hold.  Dangerously close. 

His frustration at his own carelessness must have shown on his face as Emily was giving him concerned looks.  He tried to smooth his expression.

“You are saying I should be dead?” he asked, his frustration bleeding into his voice.

Greta made a somewhat comical face and nodded her head side to side. “Yeeeeaaaaaah,” she finished by gulping down her tea. “But we saved you, so please don’t go about creating more witches.”

Wonderful; he was indebted to humans.  “I do not create witches.  They search for power and make it themselves,” he said coldly.

“But you Marked Delilah,” Corvo added stiffly, his eyes narrowed accusingly.

Perhaps he should not have done that, but she was an interesting person.  The closest he’d come to admitting to possibly regretting Marking Delilah was in conversation with Emily.   Rather than saying anything, he snatched a pear and bit into it with a little more violence than was required. 

***

The Outsider was clearly in a sour mood, and Emily could relate.  Was it not recently that she was a fugitive in her own kingdom?   Greta also seemed to take pleasure in needling him, which Emily regarded as phenomenally dangerous.  The Outsider clearly remained just as powerful now as he was before, demonstrated by him appearing in the kitchen, tendrils of the void licking his frame.  He further proved it by floating, and pulling a pear to him with a twitch of his fingers. 

He was also a surprisingly messy eater.  Juice trickled down his chin and covered his fingers; he wiped it away using the back of his hand and licked his fingers clean.  His face remained sullen as he ate the pear down to its core, and then ate that too.    

Emily looked to Corvo, silently asking what to do.  Her father offered a slight shrug, he clearly was uncertain what path to take.  She turned to the Outsider, who was cleaning one of his rings with the corner of his jacket.

“You are welcome to stay at the Tower, if you wish,” she offered.  He looked up, clearly surprised.  Emily guessed that the thought had not yet crossed his mind.

“You cannot exactly return to the Void just yet,” she explained. “And you will need a place to stay.”

The Outsider’s face was carefully blank.  He slipped his ring back on his finger, and seemed to consider her offer.  He straightened up, lifted his chin and folded his hands behind his back.

“And if I accept?”

Emily mimicked his stance, and made her tone as regal as possible.

“The safe room will be yours.  I am the only one with the key, and you do not need it.  You may do what you like with it, as long as it does not threaten the safety of those inside and outside the Tower.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I to be confined in that space?”

Emily hesitated for a moment.  “I do not think it wise for people to know you are here.  I would allow you free rein if I could trust that you would not be spotted.”

A smirk appeared on the Outsider’s face.  “I can choose who I appear to, Empress.  No one should see me unless I wish it.”

Greta coughed by the stove, prompting Emily to look at her, and raise an eyebrow. 

“Not that I doubt your abilities,” Greta said, taking up Emily’s invitation to speak. “But I would prefer if we could test it out first.  You can use me.”

“Agreed.”  He looked rather smug saying that.   Tendrils of darkness flickered across his being.

Greta put down her teacup, a focused look on her face.  She slowly walked to him.  The Outsider watched her move, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.   With astonishing speed she seized his shoulders, and gave him a little shake. The swift change of expression on his pale face nearly made Emily giggle.

“Well, he’s good on the visual front,” Greta said, removing her hands from his shoulders and walking back to her teacup. “The problem is he is very much tangible, so if he is not careful people can bump into him.  Also when you disappeared, I could detect the very faint smell of aged ambergris, and it’s pretty concentrated where you stand. If someone knows what they are looking for, that could also be an issue. Oh!” she lifted her teaspoon, then pointed it at the Outsider.  "Say something.”

“Ambergris?” he sounds both peeved and interested.

“Whale vomit,” Greta replied primly.  “Used to make perfumes stick to the skin longer.”

Corvo made a noise of interest, and Emily herself was somewhat surprised. “Really?”

“Yep,” Greta took a sip. “My great-auntie made perfumes.  You know Courier Number Seven?”

“That was one of hers?” Emily asked, delighted. “My mother loved that perfume!”

The Sister gave her a wide grin. “I’ll write to her and ask her to send you some that she made herself.  She keeps a bunch just for the occasion.  Anyway, ambergris is a vital part of the perfume.”

Corvo had a sad smile on his face, but he seemed just as pleased as Emily that such a fond and unexpected connection was made.

The Outsider lifted the spell, and this time Emily tried to find the smell Greta was talking about.  She found herself leaning closer to him, noting a light, earthy scent. 

“Did you find what you are looking for?” he remarked dryly, looking at her with an imperceptible smile.  Emily immediately stood up straight, willing her face not to flush.

“Oh, Empress!” Greta’s tone indicated she was about to make a request. Emily gave her a nod, and she continued. “Would you mind briefly using your Mark? I just had a thought.”

Corvo looked startled that Greta knew, and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Is it safe for a member of the Abbey to know you are Marked?”

“Probably not, but I trust her,” Emily replied with a murmur. 

Corvo sighed, and looked resigned. Such was the life of the Royal Protector and Father.  Emily felt a little badly for adding yet another anxiety to her father’s long list, but so far Greta did not indicate that she was going to betray her.

Emily collapsed into her Shadow Walk, and Greta yelped, looking started and frightened.  After another moment she pulled herself out of the form.  The Sister looked pale, but after a moment started sniffing the air, then walking over to Emily and sniffing around Emily.

“Are you trying to find if both uses of power smell the same?” Corvo asked, mildly amused.

“Pretty much,” Greta answered, taking a step back.  “As far as I can tell, the ambergris smell is not so much a ‘Void thing’ as it is an ‘Outsider thing’.” She held up her hands and gestured the quotes.

“Why take note of this?” the Outsider asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“When I am eighty years old I will publish a scandalous tell all detailing my time here as an advisor and assistant to Empress Emily and our torrid love affair,” Greta said saucily, giving an overacted wink at Emily.  Emily couldn’t keep herself from giggling, and theatrically got on one knee before Greta.

“Oh Greta! I had no idea you felt the same! Let us never be parted!”

Corvo affectionately rolled his eyes, while the Outsider looked like he had just eaten a live plague rat.  Greta cackled with laughter, placing her teacup aside as she shook with laughter.

“By the Strictures, I am delighted that our Empress is you,” Greta said with deep warmth. Emily stood up, a wide smile on her face.  The Outsider still had that unpleasant look on his face.

“Well,” Emily tried to straighten her face and erase her smile. “I trust that you will not allow yourself to get noticed, so you certainly may wander around the Tower and its grounds.”

“I suppose if I behave myself you will let me wander around Dunwall, oh Empress?” his mocking was rather playful, though his face remained grim.

Emily sighed. “Will you be staying?”

A small smile now appeared on his face. “Yes.”


	9. Chapter 8: Parliamentary Whispers

##  Chapter 8: Parliamentary Whispers

Emily tried her best to look attentive as Parliament debated the necessity of new roads between the Driscol and Poolwick.  It was the first session since her reversal of the coup, and even though it was not strictly necessary for her to be there, she thought it best to at least show up and observe.  Corvo stood at her left, his eyes glazed over as he stared into the middle distance.  She could relate to such boredom, but it would be regressive to allow her mind to wander.  After all, did she not resolve to be a more attentive leader?

So Emily scratched out notes in a beat-up notebook.  So far the main argument was between MP Baldwin of Driscol, MP Haversham of Old Lamprow, and MP Anderson of Poolwick.  Anderson proposed a direct road to Driscol to “foster better interior trade relations”.  Haversham lead the opposition of the new road, arguing that Old Lamprow was better located to fulfill trade needs than Poolwick.  Baldwin seemed to sway between the two arguments like a pennant in a wind storm.

“Such a trivial argument.”

Emily jumped, unable to keep her head from whipping up and right to see the Outsider staring out to the Parliament floor below, chomping on an apple.  Corvo’s eyes slid to glance at him and he let out a long sigh; other than that, he made no indication that he saw the Outsider.   Emily surreptitiously glanced around the upper landing; fortunately nobody was looking in their direction.

 “It is folly for Poolwick to request a road to a city that has no need of them,” the Outsider continued.  “It already has river and road access to Dunwall and Potterstead.”

Emily was not certain how to respond to him.  She did agree with his point- the road was utterly unnecessary and if Poolwick wanted it to be made they should talk with Driscol one on one and fund its construction themselves.  Finally the debate closed and a motion the table the measure was proposed.

“How did someone as wavering as Harold Baldwin get elected?” the Outsider grumbled, punctuating his remark with a bite of his apple. 

“He is very popular with his electorate,” Emily replied quietly, starting up a new section in her notebook as the motion successfully passed and a bill regarding the regulation of travelling salesmen was proposed. 

“Yes, because he is particularly talented at following directions and not much else.”

“Is it not the job of the MP to carry out the wishes of their electorate?” Emily asked, trying her best to listen to the debate on the floor.  So far it was in favor of the measure.  MP Ryswell of Redmoor spoke passionately of poor mothers being swindled as they tried to buy medicine for their sick children.  MP Haversham argued on the reliance rural communities had on such salesmen, and how they deserved just as much quality protection as the city dwellers. 

“He barely brings the wishes of Driscol to the House floor,” The Outsider retorted, his voice cutting through MP Moore of Whitecliff brief assent. “The Baron Sturgess should just run for MP if they want to have any sort of influence.  For the second wealthiest city of Gristol they have amazingly little clout in Parliament.”

He looked like he was going to say more, so Emily shushed him.  MP Baldwin was about to add his two cents, and she had to admit the Outsider’s distaste of Baldwin made her curious about his opinions.

“When I was a lad of fifteen we had an incident involving a salesman by the name of Peter Smalls. Peter would visit our house once a month to sell ribbons, handkerchiefs and buttons to the staff.   The maids took a shine to him, and his goods were uncommonly good.  I myself purchased a handkerchief from him as a gift to my little sister, who was delighted with the present.”

The Outsider crossed his legs and floated beside her, finishing off his apple as MP Baldwin somehow digressed into describing his little sister’s collection of handkerchiefs. 

“That dear sister of his bought quite a few handkerchiefs from Dunwall during the plague years,” the Outsider whispered in her ear. “Sickened a fair amount of staff and caused a small panic that forced her and her household into the countryside.  It is well-kept secret of the Baldwin Family, just a few words away from being spilled by Harold.”

“But back to Peter Smalls.”

Emily glanced over at the Outsider and had to stop herself from laughing at his pout.  How eager he must have been to see a secret spilled. That wish was denied by Baldwin going on a completely different tangent about all the members of his household staff fifteen years ago.  Other MPs on the floor were beginning to look irritated.  Anderson was doodling on his copy of the bill, while Moore looked like he was about to fall asleep.  Emily half wondered if the Outsider had any more interesting facts about the Baldwin family. 

“MP Moore has a shrine to me in his basement,” he whispered, amused. “His prayers often involve his unsuccessful wooing of potential mistresses and misleading his pious wife.”

Emily could not help but make a small noise of surprise, watching the elderly man doze off as Baldwin described the cook in detail.   “I can guess why his wooing is unsuccessful.”

“Be careful not to be in a room with him alone,” the Outsider cautioned seriously.  “Moore is a man who is only aware of his own shortcomings around other men.”

She turned to him, truly surprised. The Outsider continued to stare down at the Parliament floor, his frown growing.  “I would like to give the same warning of Haversham, Bunting, and Inchmouth.  Disgusting creatures, the lot of them.”

Corvo grunted in assent. Emily slowly nodded, reeling somewhat at the sudden warnings.

“Thank you,” she murmured, not knowing what else to say. “I appreciate the warnings.”

The Outsider shrugged.  “If I did not mention it to you I would have told Corvo.”

“Inchmouth was a new name to me,” Corvo chimed in softly.  

They went quiet for a moment, all three listening Baldwin finally finishing up his description of his household staff.

“Still, it was kind of you to mention it,” Emily said, trying to catch the Outsider’s eye. He looked back at her, his pale face expressionless. “Especially when you did not have to.”

He blinked and turned away rather quickly, staring out at the floor.  If she did not know better, Emily would say that he was embarrassed.

“You deserved to know,” he replied flatly.

Emily smiled, and turned her attention back to MP Baldwin.

“So Peter Smalls ran away with three of the chamber maids and three gold bars, and that is why I believe that this bill will be good for the people of Gristol.”

Well… she certainly had missed a thing or two.  It was a pity it was the most interesting part of the story.


	10. Chapter 9: Whales

##  Chapter 9:Whales

A thud shook the table as Greta dropped a tall pile of books on it. Sister Reilly was the first to look up.

“Starting already?” she sounded surprised. Sister Hope also looked up, her eyes widening at the size of the stack.

“I was actually supposed to start last week,” Greta admitted. “But you know that day went.”

Eileen groaned, placing her face in her book.  “Nothing like a surprise visit from our White Cliff Brothers to put necessary research to a halt.”

“At least we were all approved long before the whole Delilah fiasco,” said Bernice as she tied a tiny knot on a string.

“Thank the Strictures for that!” Greta agreed, pulling a book off the top of the pile.  It was simply titled _Bonecharms- a Brief History_.

It had long been Greta’s path to succeed Sister Mary in the chapel’s research of the occult and maintenance of the collection.  One Sister at a time could head the collection with a support group of five Sisters- one mentor and four peers.  The Mentor would then retire to maintaining the banned and heretical collection, and would offer valuable input on the whether or not to ban recently published works.  Sister Mary was certainly looking forward to reading all the scandalous literature she could get her hands on.

“What are you working on today Hope?” Sister Reilly asked, her book on regional botany of North Gristol propped open on a stand as she knitted.

“The old way of making bullets that does not use whale oil,” Hope replied, her pen scratching the paper as she wrote.  “There’s this chemical mix of sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter that works just as well as the oil, if you tweak the bullet and gun designs a little. It’s easy and cheap to make, and should free up the oil for use in more important things.  Right now I am drafting a proposal to be brought before the Academy.”

“I take it you agree with the rationing,” Bernice said dryly.

“Yep,” Hope popped the “p”, and continued writing. 

“If nothing else, it is a good intellectual challenge,” added Eileen.  “And logically, it is foolish to think that this practice is sustainable.  With trees we are at least able to plant new ones when we cut the old down.  It is much harder to do the same with whales.”

Greta hummed in agreement, then finally tuned out her Sisters to focus on the tall stack.  As she flipped open her notebook, she felt a chill move down her spine, followed by a whiff of ambergris.  She ignored it.  There were far more important things to do today.

***

The Outsider wandered around the chapel library, trailing his fingertips across the spines of books.  It was truly a stunning collection, with a logical system of numbers for each subject and each book lovingly arranged by author on the shelves.  There were tomes on all manner of subjects, including an entire section devoted to fictional work.  He was honestly taken aback by the collection of occult works, notably how large it was.  There was shelf after shelf of books and boxes, hidden behind Walls of Light.  He got as close as he dared, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he peered at them.  Much to his surprise, there was a small series of boxes labeled “Delilah”.

“The Sisters wasted no time collecting did they?” he thought, somewhat amused.  “I wonder if they have her notes on rune harmony, or her audiograph describing her plan?” 

In the corner of his eye he saw Greta, seated at a table with four other Sisters.  He drifted over, and peered over her shoulder.  She was writing feverishly, constantly questioning the author.  He looked at the text, and stifled a laugh. Edric Coffinhaven was an overeager man who was a famous seller of bonecharms back when White Cliff was a witch’s haven.  This book was little more than a marketing device for his wares.

“Perhaps I can ask Greta about the Delilah collection,” he thought, before drifting over to see what the other Sisters were doing. 

A tiny round sister with curly brown hair had abandoned her book, open wide to a page about slaughtering a whale.  She was engaged in a vibrant back and forth with a short-haired blind Sister, waving her arms energetically.  He took a step back, careful to not get hit. 

That open page intrigued him. The closest the Outsider had been to the process of slaughtering a whale was when Daud infiltrated Rothwild’s Slaughterhouse for information on Delilah.  And to be perfectly honest, he was barely paying attention.  Corvo was far more interesting at the time.

Perhaps he should pay Slaughterhouse Row a visit.

***

Emily rubbed her temples, trying to stave off the looming headache.  Parliament fortunately has been very cooperative in the rebuilding efforts so far, recruiting new members for the City Watch and managing them more efficiently.  Rebuilding her cabinet has been much more difficult.   Yul Khulan was an irreplaceable ally, and someone she sorely missed.  The Overseers were still in the process of mourning and burial, something that would take months to complete.  So far Greta was filling that space imperfectly, but Emily so liked having her around that she was considering finding a way to keep her on permanently.  Corvo and she both agreed that he could not fill both the position of Royal Protector and Spymaster, so there was yet another position she needed to fill.  She had a particular candidate in mind, however it would be some time before she got her answer. 

Then there was this report from the city watch concerning the Slaughterhouses. 

“You are looking tired Empress.”

Emily looked up. The Outsider was standing before her, hands resting wide on the table.

“How good of you to arrive,” she said dryly.  “I was hoping that you could join me for dinner.”

He tilted his head, seeming to consider it.  “How could I refuse?” A playful expression appeared on his face.

Emily gestured to the chair across from her. “Have a seat then.   Our meal should be brought up shortly.”

Not a moment later did the door to her quarters open, and a maid arrived carrying two covered platters balanced atop her hands.

With great skill the young woman deposited the two platters on the table before them, not seeming to take any notice of the Outsider.  She reached out and uncovered each plate at the same time.

“Roasted quail with assorted greens and baked potatoes,” she announced with excessive hauteur.   “There is a fine bottle of red wine already here, enjoy.”

She turned on her heel and walked out. Emily placed her napkin on her lap and took the silverware off the platter.  The Outsider picked up a baked potato with his hands and bit into it like it was an apple. Emily tried not to stare.

“I received a rather interesting report from the City Watch today,” she started lightly, cutting into the quail.

The Outsider hummed, but appeared to be far more interested in the food than her words.  He finished off the potato in two large bites, which Emily might have found impressive if it was not so revolting.   She endeavored to ignore the unfolding disaster of table manners that would give her old governess an aneurysm, and continued.

“They told me that a slaughterhouse was in the process of receiving a whale, when suddenly it ceased to be there.  They also told me that many of the tools stopped working, particularly in the oil extraction room.”

The Outsider hummed again as he tore the quail in two and pulled the legs off.  Emily watched in disgust as he wrapped the cooked greens around the drumstick and proceeded to shove the whole thing in his mouth.  At least he chewed quietly.  She sighed through her nose.

“Could you help me by explaining how that happened?” she pressed.

He held up a finger, shiny with grease, as he ate the other drumstick. 

“I might as well continue to eat my dinner while I still have an appetite,” she thought with a groan.  They spent the next ten minutes eating in silence, while the Outsider devoured everything on his plate with great speed.  Emily wondered if he would get indigestion due to eating so quickly.  After he licked his fingers clean, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.  Emily could not stand it anymore.

“Have you never seen a napkin before?” she asked, exasperated.

The Outsider blinked and for the first time Emily had met him he seemed to be truly confused.

“It might be time for a brief etiquette lesson so I can preserve my sanity,” Emily thought. She removed her napkin from her lap and held it up. “This is a napkin.  You use it to clean your hands and your face when dirty.  You put it on your lap when you first sit down.”

Next she held up her fork and knife.  “This is silverware.  The knife is used for cutting food into smaller pieces and held in the dominant hand.  The fork is used to pick up those pieces and bring them to the mouth.”

She looked at him expectantly.  The Outsider oh so slowly flushed, his pale face turning bright red.  He averted his eyes, and a thought occurred to Emily.

“You do not know any better,” she almost whispered, surprised.

“How would I?” he sneered. “Before I became what I am I was a beggar.  This is the most food I have ever eaten in one sitting.”

There was silence.  Emily did not know what to say.  She certainly felt badly for embarrassing him. And it was silly of her to assume he would pay attention to something as small as table manners, especially when he had no need to eat until now and ate alone. 

“I’m sorry…” she trailed off, unsure how to best apologize.

“Concerning the slaughterhouse,” his voice was cold. “I originally intended just to look.  That was a mistake on my part.”

Emily blinked, taken aback. 

“This might come as a shock to you, but I do not enjoy watching suffering.  Within these past two weeks my tolerance for being a bystander has lessened, and I do not like it.  It was so much easier to be above it all when I could not _feel_.”

The last word came out through gritted teeth, and his fists were clenched tight.  Emily reached across the table, and touched his hand.  The Outsider looked up at her, a flicker of surprise briefly crossing his face. 

“I’m here to listen, if that is what you need,” she offered.

He swallowed, and Emily noted how vulnerable he looked in that moment before it was covered up with a blank mask.

“Whales are special Empress,” the Outsider said quietly. “They can swim in the Void as well as the world mortal.  I have often been visited by the same ones for many years, and even seen them in death.  The one I saw today knew me.  Her songs have often brought me comfort. I could not leave her to be tortured for hours, even days before she is allowed to die.”

Emily looked down at her hand, which was covering his loosely clenched fist.  She looked up again, and gazed into those black eyes.

“I am sorry this happened to her.  If there is a way to avoid needless suffering, I would like to know it.  As things now stand, we are too reliant on whale oil for me to allow you to sabotage slaughterhouses.”

A mirthless chuckle came from his mouth. “I tried to pull her into the Void, forgetting that could not get there myself. The only thing that worked was branding my mark into her brow and sending her out to sea.”

“You Marked a whale?” Emily asked, trying to keep the laugh from her voice.

“I cannot mark animals, I can only channel my power through them,” he replied loftily.

Emily thought about her Far Reach, and using that to catapult a whale to open waters.  The very thought made her snort with laughter.

“Not quite like that,” there was a smile on his face. “But the same idea.”

Emily smiled back at him. “If it helps any, I am sure most whalers will think twice attacking a whale with your mark.”

The Outsider laughed, a glimmer of delight dancing across his black eyes. “For the very first time some good has come out of my worship. Very well, Empress; I promise you that I will not sabotage the slaughterhouses again.”

A part of Emily had the feeling that she had given the Outsider an idea where the fallout would be terrible to deal with, but he looked so pleased that she could not bring herself to care. 

She stood and offered him a good night. He took the dismissal with a short bow and a slight smile, and vanished.  As she cleaned up the platters, she realized that once she rested her hand atop his, he never pulled away.


	11. Chapter 10: Cabinet Making

##  Chapter 10: Cabinet Making

Greta found herself becoming less and less anxious of her place alongside Emily with each summons to the Tower.  At first it felt odd to be offering advice to the Empress.  After all, her area of study did not rest in politics like Bernice, but in history and the occult.  But was not the purpose of the Oracular Order to guide the Abbey of the Everyman?  True, it was a group effort more than anything else, and Greta was only one person.  Even so, it was her duty to offer guidance where she could.   Well, it was less of a duty and more of a pleasure. 

Funny things happen when you create a corrupted rune together and later have the displeasure of seeing the Outsider naked.  Funny things like being called upon to spend lunch together or have tea for no reason but for the pleasure of company.  Funny things like becoming a friend and confidant.  After all, together they held quite a large secret, so why not many smaller ones?

So here she was, walking across the Tower grounds and into the building itself like it belonged to her.  Well, more like she belongs there; the thought of property management gave Greta a headache.   One of the guards by the foyer smiled at her and gave a wave.

“Sister Manderly,” he greeted. “The Empress awaits you in her office.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a thankful smile and a tiny salute.   The tower was roving with a veritable army of maids and other such cleaning staff, stripping down and washing away the traces of Delilah.  Greta dodged buckets of soapy water, and men moving impossibly expensive furniture to get to the office door.  Once there she knocked on the door.

“Come it!” invited Emily, sounding somewhat distracted.

Greta opened the door and closed it behind her. Corvo leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and expression bored.  Emily was standing at the desk, looking down at eleven stacks of paper.  At the sound of the latch clicking, her head popped up and she smiled at Greta.

“Thank you for coming,” she greeted. “I would appreciate your advice regarding some choices I have for my cabinet.”

Greta blinked. “Oh, I’ll see how I can help, but I am afraid that I am very much the wrong person for this.”  She approached the desk and looked at the stacks.  They each were actually a series of silvergraphs, etchings, drawings, or just scraps of paper with names on them.  Every pile carefully labelled at top by a sign of paper with a cabinet position written on it.  Each image was of a person.

 “Where on earth did you get all these?” Greta asked, baffled.

“My old spymaster files,” answered Corvo.  “It helps to have an image of the subject on file, but much to my dismay some of my files were trashed and I do not have the images of everyone up for selection.”

“Still, everyone here is a known quantity,” finished Emily.

“To you maybe, but not to me,” retorted Greta, picking up one of the drawings in the pile for the Minister of Gristol. “Who on earth is this fellow and why is his mustache so amazing?”

That drew a laugh from Corvo and Emily.

 “That is MP Baldwin from Driscol,” Emily said with a suppressed laugh.  “The reason that he is in the pile is that he has fantastic connections to all the important families on Gristol and decent human.”

“You seriously will consider placing MP Baldwin on your cabinet?”

Greta sniffed the air, smelling the tell-tale ambergris.  She scanned the room, and finally found the Outsider lurking overhead, regarding Emily from a particularly graceful backbend.

“He is a supportive fellow, and I have yet to find a powerful family in Gristol who deeply dislikes him,” Emily challenged. “If you have conflicting information I would appreciate hearing it.”

The Outsider drifted down, peering at the images of other candidates for Minister of Gristol. “While many families do regard him as ‘annoying’, it is not in any spite or true dislike.  You are correct in gauging his influence as useful.  But beyond that? The man is not capable of making serious decisions without constant input.”

“You seem to think that I want someone who acts independently for this position,” Emily thoughtfully rearranged the stack into a neat pile, a decision made.

Realization bloomed on the Outsider’s face, and a quite the smile appeared alongside it. “In that case, Empress, you have made a very wise decision.”

Greta returned the picture of MP Baldwin to the top of the pile and skimmed her eyes over the others.  Some stacks had as few as two portraits or as many as five.  Pretty much every face and name was unfamiliar to her, until she combed through the pile for Minister of Industry.

“I know of Sinjean DeLuc,” Greta proclaimed with a great deal of excitement, picking up his labeled portrait.  “He’s worked with my Sister Eileen and her mentor in the past on new machinery and labor practices in factories.”

“Oh?” Emily carefully took the portrait from Greta’s hands. “I largely selected him because he is in favor of whale oil rationing.  It is nice to know that he actively works alongside the Abbey.”

“A word of warning,” interjected the Outsider, holding up portrait of dark-skinned vulpine fellow.  “If you select DeLuc, he will not accept the position if you also offer a position to Marius Silva.”

“Does this have anything to do with that duel of theirs?” Corvo asked, gazing at the floating Outsider.  The deity seemed to chew the inside of his cheek as he thought.

“Which duel do you mean?  Was it the one where Silva shot DeLuc’s pinky off or the other were DeLuc cut part of Silva’s ear off?   Or the one that ended with the two men catapulting a cannon ball into the Inchmouth Garden Party? I can go on for days, as could you,” The Outsider raised his eyebrows and reclined in the air. “Both men have been rivals in thought and honor for years and will not work with each other for any reason.  They are both very capable men, but they rabidly despise each other.  So choose the person you prefer and work with them.”

Emily frowned mightily at that information, and took the picture of Silva from the Outsider’s hands. “Now that is truly a pity.  They are both best suited for the positions of Industry and Agriculture.  There must be some way to make their rivalry work in my favor.”

“You could frame it as a competition,” Greta suggested, somewhat uncertain. “When offering you also could imply that the other man tried to dissuade you from reaching out.”

Corvo hummed. “That is not such a bad idea,” he murmured, pensive. “What do you think Emily?”

“I think it is worth a shot,” she replied while jotting down notes on the back of the portraits. “What do you think Outsider?”

The Outsider blinked and went from his reclined position to a sort of arms free headstand, peering down at Emily’s notes.

“I think it would be interesting to observe,” his answer was evasive. “Perhaps their mutual annoyance with MP Baldwin could heal their decades old rift.”

“I was not aware they had met,” Corvo added, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“They have not,” the Outsider distractedly replied, his dark eyes fastened on the pile labeled ‘Minister of Morley’.   Intrigued, Greta looked into the pile as well. 

There were five candidates, three women and two men.  Or was it two women and three men?  She picked up the drawing that was confusing her.  A striking person with high cheekbones and long blond hair peered back at her with mischievous eyes and lips quirked in a playful smirk.

“You seriously are considering Wyman Fitzpatrick for the position of Minister of Morley?”

The Outsider sounded very displeased and even a little disappointed.  Greta blinked and looked at the image again.  So this was the Empress’ preferred companion.  Not a bad choice, if one considers looks alone. 

“He’s a charming representative,” Emily remarked as she reshuffled the piles for Minister of Transport and Medicine, eyes focused on those stacks. “Wyman knows the royalty of Morley very well and has steady ties with the aristocracy.”

The Outsider pulled himself upright and drifted down to the other side of the desk, across from Emily.   “That is indeed true, Empress.  But while his talents lie in being the most charming person in the room and best guest at any party, they fall woefully short in politics.  Did you know that Morley was planning a revolt until they got word of your actions?”

Emily’s head shot up, a look of surprise on her face.  Corvo pushed himself off the wall and strolled over to her side.

“He is right,” the Royal Protector said. “It was something I was planning on briefing you on alongside the new Spymaster, but I see that the information should have been revealed sooner.”

Greta coughed. “It sounds- to me that is- that Mr. Fitzpatrick is a personable human and fun to be around, and you are trying to direct his talents into a position where he would make an ideal political ally.”  Emily turned her gaze to her, a blank look on her face. Greta continued to talk. “I can understand wanting to make your partner more supportive, in this case making him a more effective political ally, but that is honestly a terrible idea.  The last thing the Isles needs is the Minister of Morley being a fun-loving aristocrat.”

Emily only nodded at her words, seeming to take a moment to process them. Greta slowly returned the picture to the pile.  It honestly was a terrible idea to install your lover into an official position, especially if you broke things off.  Such a move felt uncharacteristic of Emily.  Perhaps she was blinded by affection, or was it something else?

“Unless, was he agitating for support in Morley on your behalf?” Greta asked, trying to make sense of Emily’s decision to include Wyman in the running for Minister. 

“No, that would be Elys Cassidy,” the Outsider said, pulling out the picture of a round-faced woman with a mop of curls from the pile. “Fitzpatrick was characteristically silent on the matter.”

Emily retrieved Wyman’s picture from the pile, a look of consternation appearing on her face. “Characteristically indeed.”

Then much to Greta’s surprise she folded the drawing in half and tossed it into an open drawer, scowling.  Corvo tried and failed to hide his approval behind a mask of bewilderment.  The Outsider did not even try to hide his pleasure, his chin tilted forward as he leaned on the desk, arms folded.

“It is good indeed to see you correct that lapse in good judgment,” he commented, sounding rather smug.

“Lapse in good judgment indeed,” Emily grumbled, discarding the torn picture. “The next time we see each other we will have to talk.”

Greta awkwardly stood there, not exactly sure what to say.  Knowing that Wyman Fitzpatrick did nothing to aid Emily against Delilah left a bad taste in her mouth, and she certainly agreed that even putting him in the running was a lapse of judgment.  Even so, it felt somewhat strange to see Corvo and the Outsider so pleased seeing Wyman slip in regard. She almost felt badly for a man she did not know.  In order to ease the nerves that were beginning to grow, Greta turned her attention to another stack, one that only had two options.

“Who are these two?” she held aloft a newspaper print and a silvergraph.

“Those are Marcell Blinker and William Tanalski,” Emily replied, a hand on her hip.

“Why choose these two?” Greta pressed. The Outsider tilted his head, very much like a wolfhound, his dark eyes fixed on Emily.

“Both are highly respected judges, and both supported me during the coup at risk of their own life and assets.”

Greta opened her mouth to ask another question but Emily held up a finger, prompting her to be silent.

“I find myself preferring Blinker,” she continued, pulling her hand back to stroke her chin. “He was the far more vocal out of the two, and he has participated in many high-profile criminal cases in the wake of the Rat Plague.”

“In one of them he knowingly condemned an innocent man to death,” added the Outsider firmly, a frown on his face.  “He might be supportive Empress, but I do not consider him to be a lawful man.”

Emily turned to him, a befuddled look on her face. “Nonsense.  There is no way Pierre Brown was innocent.”

Greta’s eyes widened. “Wait, is this the Harpooner’s Pub Murders case?”

Corvo grunted in affirmation. “I did not realize that the Oracular Order followed sensational crimes.”

“We usually get wrapped up in them because sensational almost always ties into “occult”,” Greta replied. “Sister Trotsky asserted in prediction that it was a “Brown shadow” that committed the murders, but since nothing occult was going on, the Abbey did not see fit to report the prediction to the police.  She pretty much follows every case we hear about and her words often mean the interference of Overseers or not. ”

The Outsider quite suddenly directed his considerable attention to Greta, an incredibly frustrated look on his face. “Your order had a clue that would have meant the capture of the true culprit!”

“Like who, his twin brother?” she suggested half in jest.

“Yes!” cried the Outsider, slamming his hand onto the desk, causing several piles to flutter into a mess. He turned back to Emily, who was trying to fix the stacks. “Blinker knew about Pierre’s identical twin, as did the prosecutor.  They both knew that his twin had skipped town soon after Pierre was taken in for his crimes.  And instead of serving justice, they sent the wrong man to the gallows.  He does not deserve his position as high judge, let alone Minister of Justice.”

Emily feverishly wrote down everything that was said into a notebook.  “Thank you for your input,” she muttered as she finished writing.  Greta put the two pictures back down on the desk, and Emily sorted them.

“Seven positions narrowed down, seven more to go,” she announced cheerfully, gathering up seven of the piles and stacking them one atop another.

The Outsider picked up the label to one of the remaining piles. “Minister of Transport?”

“Somebody must mind all the roads and seaways across the empire,” Corvo said as he took a seat in the deck chair and folded his hands across his stomach. “They are also in charge of regulating mail.”

A sudden look of amusement appeared on the Outsider’s face. “Why I see that MP Anderson has been snubbed from a position he is born to fill.”

Emily laughed and Corvo rolled his eyes, while Greta stood there while accepting that this was a joke she was not privy to.   Emily turned back to her, her eyes alight in merriment.

“MP Anderson of Poolwick proposed a road from Poolwick to Driscol,” she explained cheerfully.

Greta snorted, getting the joke. “Truly he is the best man for the job.”

There was a knock on the office door, prompting the Outsider to vanish from sight.  Emily looked at the door, somewhat confused.  Corvo shot out of his chair and stood beside her, looking rather scary.

“Come in,” she invited, her bemusement making it into her permission.

The door swung open and Greta was surprised to see Marzia standing in the threshold, looking very awestruck. 

“Begging your pardon Empress!” she squeaked, dropping into a curtsy. “I have been sent to fetch Greta back to the Chapel.”

“Oh, alright!” Greta replied, surprised. She thought she had a free afternoon but perhaps she misremembered? She turned to Emily and gave her a wave.

“Thank you for calling upon me Empress.  I hope my advice was of use!”

Emily inclined her head and smiled. “It certainly was.  Good luck on whatever is taking you from me now.”

Greta gave a short bow and joined Marzia. As the two Sisters left Greta turned to her and asked:

“Why were you sent to fetch me anyway?”

“Oh you must have forgotten!” Marzia replied. “We are being asked to meditate on our possible next High Overseer, and write in our predictions to the council in White Cliff.”

Greta groaned and smacked her forehead. “That is today! I thought it was happening tomorrow.”

Marzia laughed. “You might want to check your calendar after this.”

“Definitely.”


	12. Chapter 11: Meditation

##  Chapter 11: Meditation

The Chapel was hushed when Greta and Marzia returned.  The two women exchanged nods, and Greta headed to her small room. 

Prophecy was not something she had any talent at, in fact, very few Sisters truly had the gift.  What all sisters had is “an open mind”, which meant that dreams and visions _could_ come to them under the right circumstances.  So while some sisters actively pursued prophecy with the help of certain mushrooms, incenses, and chemicals, others simply waited it to come to them.  Greta was one of the latter.  Often she would partner with one of her more talented Sisters and record their prophecies, but since no one had asked for her help, she decided to simply meditate in her room until the bell rang for dinner. 

Greta lit a small brazier, prompting sweet-smelling smoke to issue from its perfumed coals. Next she unfurled a rag-knot rug and knelt upon it, her hands resting atop her thighs.  Taking measured breaths, Greta slipped into calm nothingness.  For ten minutes, or perhaps longer, she meditated, eyes closed, her mind open to visions.  As usual, none came. 

Feeling somewhat melancholy, she opened her eyes, only to yelp in surprise when she saw that Elanor was sitting across from her, cross-legged and smiling.

“Elanor!” Greta exclaimed with surprise and relief, placing a hand over her racing heart.  “You scared me.”

Elanor rubbed the back of her neck, her smile turning sheepish. “Sorry about that Greta.  I just wanted to check in with you and see how you are, as well as ask a few questions.”

“Oh, alright,” Greta replied, somewhat bemused. “I am doing fine.  Nothing strange has really happened to me or my Sisters since Delilah was defeated.”

“Good, good!” Elanor nodded, folding her hands. “You have not had to deal with the Void attempting to contact you in any way?”

“What, no,” that truly confused Greta. “Why would the Void be contacting me?”

“Because you took its representative away of course,” Elanor also sounded confused. “I have talked with other Stars about previous representatives of the Void, and they have actually removed one from its position in the past.  That apparently caused no end of complaining from the Void until we helped procure its replacement.”

Greta began to fiddle with her belt, trying to think. “But the Outsider is not completely severed from the Void.  He still has those creepy black eyes and all sorts of strange powers.  The only difference is that he has a tangible form I guess? I should ask Emily, she would know what he was like pre-Incident.”

Elanor suddenly smacked her head. “Oh gosh you are right, I can’t believe I forgot.  Speaking of tangible, I got a few things about the shackles wrong.  They did not tie him to a particular void, but to his physical body.  They made a copy of that physical body in Void then merged it with his spirit that was trapped in the world mortal.  On top of that, they linked the copy to his original body that was stuck in the Void.”

Greta watched the Star gesture with her hands as she talked about the shackles. At the last comment Greta held up her hand, prompting Elanor to pause.

“Wait, so why is this important?” she asked.

Elanor blushed a bit. “Oh, it is not really.  Except perhaps that if we did not remove those shackles the Outsider likely would be no more, and _then_ we would have to deal with the Void complaining about yet _another_ lost representative.  That will require at least a dozen extra decades of paperwork.”

“Paperwork?” Greta said with an amused snort.

“Metaphorically speaking,” Elanor replied loftily.  “But I digress, we do not have to worry about replacing the Void’s representative, and if he becomes a problem we can put him under control.”

Greta nodded, relaxing as she breathed in the smoky incense. “I truly doubt that we will have a problem with him.”

Elanor chuckled, raising a blonde eyebrow.  “Look at you; you’ve gone from ‘Fuck the Outsider’ to speaking positively about him.  Actually, I do wonder why you felt compelled to help him.  You could have told Emily that you did not know of any way to help him, or you could have summoned your Sisters to end him.  It is a bit like seeing ice help out fire.”

Greta chewed her lip as she tried to get words in order.  “When I look back on it, I do wonder why I chose to help Emily help him.  Maybe it was the fact I was introduced to him when he was stark naked, or the fact that the person asking for my help was the Empress.  In any case, he did not feel evil or look malevolent.  He just looked like a normal human man that was sick.   And Emily, I could _feel_ her good intentions.  In her presence I could practically see her goals for the future of the nation.  How could someone who wishes such good want to protect someone like the Outsider, unless perhaps he was not so bad after all?”

“How do you know the Outsider is not manipulating Emily?” Elanor questioned, thumb underneath her chin as she leaned onto her elbow. 

“Let us assume that the Outsider is what we, the Abbey, preach he is.  A tempter that wishes to sow discord into the hearts of humankind,” Greta proposed.  “Emily already has his Mark, she told me such.  We can presume that makes her sympathetic to his words and to the use of magic. But to be frank, I truly do not care if our Empress is sympathetic to the use of magic.  From what I know from talking to her, she is a trusty ally to the Abbey.  And as for being sympathetic to his words, that does mean she would be easy to manipulate.  However,” she raised a finger. “I do not believe Emily is one to take the words of the Outsider without consulting with the Royal Protector, and his job is to help her not be manipulated.”

“And this is all under the presumption that the Outsider wishes to sow discord?” Elanor looked somewhat uncertain.

“Yes, and assuming Emily will blindly follow every word he says.  I must admit that I have not yet discerned if that is his character,” Greta admitted. “After all, not counting the first time we met, I have only talked to him two other times.  The first was shortly after you left and he appeared in kitchen, and the second was earlier today when Emily was compiling candidates for her cabinet.  But I have this gut feeling that he is not the sort that interferes, but merely watches.  Some of the heretical treatises from before the Abbey was founded do argue that he is something of an almighty bystander, and will sometimes nudge things in certain directions to simply see what happens.”

Elanor nodded in understanding, a pensive look on her face.  “He sounds very similar in temperament to many Stars.  In any case, I’m going to keep an eye on the Void and try to figure out what exactly tampered with that rune of yours.”

“Thank you,” Greta murmured, not entirely sure what to say.

“But enough about the Void and the Empress and the Outsider,” Elanor declared with a wave. “Can you tell me what is the function of this?”

Out of nowhere she pulled a stuffed bear.  Not the small cute toys made out of wool, cotton, and thread, but an actual taxidermied Tyvian Ice-bear.  Greta just let her jaw drop.

“Where did you get that?

“Oh don’t worry, it’s only a projection of light,” Elanor assured.  “I will warn you that I do have a very large collection of things that bewilder me, and I know that you have the time to humor me.”

“Alright,” Greta said faintly, accepting her fate willingly.  It certainly promised to be entertaining.


	13. Chapter 12: Banter

##  Chapter 12: Banter

Corvo stood beside Emily at the end her first official cabinet meeting. The room itself was empty but for Emily, himself, and Billie Lurk. He was surprised when Emily recommended Billie Lurk as the new Royal Spymaster, and was even more surprised when she accepted. He had no fondness for the former assassin, but Emily's high recommendation of her and overall cordial treatment of Billie persuaded him to at least be civil to her.

"That went well."

Corvo did not even need to look to his right to know the Outsider was standing next to him. Billie's slack-jawed expression told him all he needed to know.

"Watched the whole thing?" Corvo asked, sure he knew the answer.

"Actually, no," one could hear the smirk in his tone. "I decided to entertain myself awhile by listening to a couple kitchen maids squabble over missing apples. This meeting was more an afterthought."

Corvo suppressed a sigh. He had a feeling the Outsider is responsible for those missing apples.

"You!" hissed Billie, her eyes narrowed.

"Who, me?"

Corvo rolled his eyes at the feigned innocence. Emily tried to hide a smile behind a mask of disapproval.

"What are you doing here, you black eyed bastard?!" Billie snarled, her hand on her knife. Emily walked over to Billie and put a calming hand on her shoulder.

"He is here as a long-term guest and unofficial advisor," Emily soothed.

Billie relaxed a little, but looked concerned. In a softened tone, she whispered:

"Are sure that is wise Empress?"

"He has been here for nearly a month," Emily said. "The worst that happened was that he freed a whale."

Corvo raised an eyebrow and turned to face the Outsider. The god looked rather pleased with himself. Billie still looked skeptical.

"Alright," she turned and pointed at the Outsider. "Don't think you can go cause havoc unnoticed. I have my eye on you." With a bow, she left the room.

Emily smiled, and turned to face Corvo and the Outsider. She placed her hands on the table, and there was a small challenge in her eyes.

"What do you think of my cabinet Outsider?"

The Outsider stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. "Loyal and competent."

She raised an eyebrow. "You truly think so?" her voice was teasing.

"Would you rather tell you that they all are conniving and self-serving without an ounce of skill among the lot?" The Outsider leaned forward, placing his hands on the table.

"So you distrust my choices?"

Corvo felt increasingly ignored by his daughter and the deity in their little back and forth, which to him sounded uncomfortably flirtatious.

"The Outsider? Flirtatious?" he scoffed at the thought. "That creature is probably disgusted by such base things."

But Emily, he could see Emily get sucked in by those black eyes. The notion made him shudder.

"Dear Empress! I am wounded that you would think I held you in such poor regard!"

Then again, the Outsider here and now was different from the Outsider he once knew. This one was more… human.

All the more reason him to keep a watchful eye on him.

***

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Emily thanked Greta as they entered her room.

"It is no trouble," Greta replied with a cheery smile and a shrug. "So, what is the issue?"

Wordlessly Emily gave an unopened envelope to Greta, watching her face.

"Ah, it is from Merida Fitzpatrick," the Sister raised her eyebrows. "Is this Wyman's sister?"

"Yes," Emily replied, fretful. "She rarely writes to me, and what worries me is that I have yet to hear from Wyman."

A look of unease appeared on Greta's face. "You have not heard from him since the Coup or since your restoration?"

"He has not written to me since he left!" Emily cried. "When either of us parted in the past we did at least write to each other. I do not understand what makes things so different this time."

Greta frowned, a pitying look in her eyes. "Emily, it is entirely possible that Wyman is no longer interested in being with you. It sounds crazy, at least to me, but it happens. Or he could have died in a freak accident. We won't know until we open this envelope."

Emily nodded, and sighed. "That is true." Greta offered the envelope back to her, and she took it. "Is it crazy that even after being told that he did nothing to help me in exile that I still want to be with him?"

Greta nodded, and added a sheepish shrug. "To be honest, yes. Noble support could mean your life or death. If he truly cared about you he should have been doing everything he possibly could to help you out. And that includes the bare minimum of speaking out in your favor across Morley. Even so, it is hard to erase years of affection, so while it is crazy it is also normal. I think."

The short Sister's expression made her laugh briefly. But the envelope seemed to weigh heavily in her hand as well as her mind, chasing away the mirth quickly.

"He is one of the few friends I have left," Emily said quietly. "Alexi was killed before my eyes, my cabinet decimated, my staff slaughtered, and now it seems that Wyman has abandoned me."

Greta reached out, an empathetic look on her face, and touched her arm. "You deserve better from a lover, void, from a _friend_. I know you and I have not known each other long, but please know that I consider you my friend. And if Wyman has no good reason to leave you hanging, I say good riddance. A friend is no friend if they jump ship at the first sight of a storm."

Emily reached up with her free hand and covered Greta's, giving it a brief squeeze. "Thank you," she whispered, overcome with gratitude.

"Anytime," Greta replied softly, a gentle smile on her face. "Now, let's open that envelope."

***

Dinner with Greta was bound to be interesting experience, particularly with the Outsider on the guest list alongside her. Greta never stayed late enough for it, and the Outsider seemed reluctant to intrude on dinner, something Corvo was grateful for. It was about the only time when he could spend with Emily without someone else in the room. In any case, the Oracular Sister was invited on a whim by Emily; he and the Outsider were already sitting when Emily showed up late with Greta.

The Outsider's face was enough to indicate to Corvo that dinner was about to get _very_ interesting.

"Royal Protector Attano, God of the Void in corporeal form," Greta greeted, a nod for him and a mocking bow for the Outsider.

The Outsider did not respond; he simply picked up the bowl of blood oxen soup and began to drink it.

Greta sat down beside him, across from the Outsider. Emily took her seat a moment later.

"My apologies for being late, we were discussing a letter I received from Wyman," Emily picked up her spoon, which was the cue for the rest of the better-mannered at the table to start eating.

"Oh?" Corvo never had a fondness for Wyman, mostly due to their penchant for illegal tobacco and lackadaisical attitude towards anything serious. A lot of his begrudging respect for Wyman evaporated when he was unable to find any evidence of them working to support Emily during the coup. In spite of knowing that, Emily seemed to still have feelings for them, evident in her avoiding eye contact, looking down into her soup and stirring it, appetite gone.

"More accurately, it's from their sister," said Greta. "Wyman is getting married because they knocked up the heiress to King Street Brandy fortune, Lydia King. Lady Merida thought the Empress deserved to know, and was invited to the wedding if she would like to go. She also offers her political support."

That explained why Emily looked so down. He reached over, offering his hand, and Emily took it with a squeeze.

The Outsider finished chugging the bowl of soup and seemed to finally notice the mood of the room. He set the bowl down and took a sip of water.

"You are better off without Wyman, Empress," he said somewhat flippantly. "Did you know they were sleeping with Esma Boyle the same time they were seeing you?"

Emily looked up at him in shock. "Is that true?" she gasped, her grip on Corvo's hand suddenly tightening.

Greta glared at the Outsider. "I do not think this is the right time to share that information," she snapped.

"It's alright Greta," Emily said, her voice thin, yet steady. She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. The Outsider looked somewhat uncertain.

"I would not lie to you Empress," he said carefully. "I hoped this information would make you feel better about no longer being saddled with him."

Emily gave him quite a cutting look, which visibly took the Outsider aback. "I was not saddled with Wyman. Belittling our relationship does not make me feel better."

He was still for a moment, before pointing to Emily's bowl of uneaten soup.

"May I have that?"

Emily laughed a short laugh and pushed it over to him. The Outsider picked it up and immediately began to drink it. Satisfied that his daughter was alright for now, Corvo gave her a smile and let go of her hand.

"So Outsider, any success at getting back to the Void?" Greta asked, her voice just polite enough for it not to be mocking. The Outsider paused in his consumption of the soup.

"Why, trying to get data for you Sisters?" he replied just as politely.

"Oh not at all," Greta batted her eyes. "I thought that you are perhaps missing your home."

The Outsider snorted, and returned to drinking straight from the bowl.

Corvo turned his attention to the steak and carrots. Emily was not eating much, but was clearly listing to the Sister and the Deity banter. He heard a soft thud as a soup bowl was placed on the table.

"I am the Void," the Outsider recited tonelessly. "It is not my home, no more than your body is your home."

"Hmm," Greta put a piece of steak in her mouth, pondering another question. "What is your opinion on people doing all sort of crazy rituals to get you attention?"

"If they wanted to get my attention, they should try to be more interesting," The Outsider punctuated that remark by shoving an entire carrot in his mouth.

Corvo sorted. He recalled the Outsider making a very similar remark about Sokolov.

"You can see everything, right?" Greta asked.

The Outsider gave her a very condescending look as he stuffed a too-big piece of steak in his mouth with surprising elegance.

"What is the funniest thing you have ever seen?"

The god pondered while he chewed. "Perhaps when a young noble grabbed a blood ox by the tail and was kicked a rather delightful distance into a lake."

"I guess one had to be there," Emily commented.

The Outsider nodded. "The noise he made was truly remarkable. Both upon the kick and when landing in the lake."

"I am surprised that it had nothing to do with whales," she remarked with a raised eyebrow.

"Now that you do mention it, there was quite the whaler once who had quite the vendetta against a large white whale…"

As Emily and the Outsider started a conversation between the two of them, Greta turned to him with a keen eye and a sly look.

"I've talked to Billie about this, but I have plan for Emily's birthday, which should be happening next week. Of course, we need your approval."

Well, this promised to be interesting. "I am all ears."


	14. Chapter 13: Birthday

##  Chapter 13: Birthday

It was the 2nd day of the Month of Rain, 1852; Empress Emily Kaldwin’s Birthday.  Billie Lurk would never call herself a party planner, but she did know some of the best bars and pubs in Dunwall, and between her and Corvo they found the perfect place: The Boiled Mermaid, located in the Old Waterfront near the Estates District.  It had music and dances nightly, and boasted a limited, by-invitation-only clientele which oddly enough included the Oracular Sisters, certain sailors, a couple gang members, and all former Whalers. 

It was the perfect place to get the Outsider completely shitfaced.

Billie leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her beer.  She and Corvo arrived early to ensure the place was secure, and were currently waiting for the rest of the party to join them. The first to arrive was Greta, who was with a tall blonde women with skin the color of baked clay.  She eagerly waved at Corvo and Billie, and made a bee-line straight for them.

“Protector Attano, Spymaster Lurk, this is Elanor.”

Elanor waved, and offered a gleaming white smile. She wore strange lenses which reflected the room in a distorted orange, and a simple dress.

“Our lovely star,” Greta continued. “Is here in case things go pear-shaped.”

“I am delighted to be here!” Elanor sat down and placed her hands on the table.  Billie noticed that her nails were painted a bright red. “I have never been to a human party before, I am sure it is a lot of fun!”

Corvo raised an eyebrow, but did not seem curious enough to actually enquire what exactly the parties she attended before were.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Greta asked Elanor.

“Ooo, surprise me!” Elanor waved her and laughed.

“Alright, but don’t blame me if you do not like it,” Greta left with a teasing smile.

“So!” Elanor turned to Corvo. “Where is the guest of honor?”

Corvo hummed and took a glance at the door.  Billie glanced around the room.  It was reasonably crowded, and musicians were currently playing a simple love song.  Most everyone was seated except for a few moving between tables.

“She should be arriving with our houseguest soon,” Corvo replied.

A look of surprise took over Elanor’s face.  She leaned forward, her voice hushed.

“Do you think the Outsider has been to any parties? I would not like to overwhelm the poor lad.”

Billie snorted at the woman calling the Outsider a “lad”.  

Corvo cracked a smile. “I don’t think that this will be anywhere close to overwhelming. The energy does pick up when the dancing begins, but it will certainly not be suffocating.”

Greta returned from the bar, holding a cider in one hand and a bright red concoction in the other.

“What on earth is that?” Billie asked as Greta placed it down in front of Elanor.

“I asked for something that would knock out a blood ox while also tasting good and the bartender made this,” Greta said with a shrug.

Billie made a note not to try it, no matter how good it looked.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Emily walk in with the Outsider.  She wore a plain outfit, and the Outsider wore glasses with lenses as dark as his eyes.  Emily looked happier now than she had been the past week.

“Hello everyone,” Emily greeted with a smile. “Have I introduced you all to Owen?”

Billie quirked a smile as Greta snickered; Corvo politely nodded while the Outsider himself stood with his hands folded behind his back.

“I received the package from your Grandmother, Greta,” Emily continued with a smile. “Thank you so much for the perfume.”

“Oh wonderful, it arrived to you safely!” Greta replied eagerly. “And it was my pleasure. Happy Birthday!”

Emily darted over to Greta and embraced her, which the Sister returned happily.  The Outsider simply watched, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

“Owen, darling!” Elanor turned, holding her red monstrosity aloft. “You must try this, it is quite delightful.”

The Outsider tentatively picked up the drink, and took a small sip.  Then a longer one, then he began to chug.

“Easy there!” Elanor took it from him. “If you want your own you can order it yourself.”

“What is that?” Emily asked with a small laugh.

Greta held up her hand. “I ordered it; I’ll ask the bartender for another.  Do you want one too Emily?”

Corvo gave Greta quite the displeased look.  That seemed to seal Emily’s desire to have it.

“Yes, I would like one,” she answered while taking a seat.  The Outsider sat next to her, looking somewhat uneasy.

“Thank you for organizing this,” Emily said with a smile. “It has been awhile since I have been able to relax.”

“You deserve it,” Billie let the pride and admiration she felt for Emily bleed into her voice. “You have had a difficult few months.”

The Outsider snorted. “That is an understatement.”

Greta returned with two of the red horrors.  “Your Blood Ox Death Potions.”

Emily’s eyes widened at the name. “How much alcohol is in this?” she asked, a glint in her eyes.

“I saw him pour half a bottle of whiskey in each one of these, as well as a third of that berry liqueur and a shot of Tyvia’s Blood. The rest is assorted juices and sugar beet extract.” Greta punctuated her explanation with a sip of her cider.

By the time Greta finished talking the Outsider was nearly a third of a way done with his drink.  Elanor reached out and put her hand the pint to get him to stop.

“Owen, hon, you need to savor the drink,” Elanor soothed.  “It is not going anywhere, no one is going to take it from you.”

Emily picked up her pint and began to chug it as well. Elanor looked at her, aghast.

“What did I just say!”

The first few bars of a dance song began to play in the air, and Emily set down the pint with a thud.   She stood up and turned to the Outsider.

“Care to have a dance?”

“If you do not mind a poor partner,” he replied, a playful smile on his face.

She pulled him to the open space in the middle of the pub, joined by other dancers.  Elanor looked somewhat concerned.

“I hope those two have a good tolerance for the alcohol,” she murmured. “It’s not quite late enough for there to be excuses.” 

“Emily should be fine,” Corvo offered grudgingly. 

“The Outsider, we are trying to find out,” Greta finished.

***

_“I'm a sailor peg_

_And I've lost my leg_

_Climbing up the top sails_

_I've lost my leg!_

_I'm shipping up to Dunwall, whoa_

_I'm shipping up to Dunwall, whoa_

_I'm shipping up to Dunwall, whoa_

_I'm shipping off to find my wooden leg!”_

Emily found herself screaming the simple lyrics at the top of her lungs as she spun around the dance floor with Greta.  Every now and then she would catch sight of the Outsider screaming along to the song with a group of sailors, and Elanor dancing in the arms of a tattooed woman.

“Hang on, hang on!” Greta yelled, laughing.  “I’m getting dizzy, we gotta stop!”

Emily allowed herself to get pulled out of the dancing, laughing too. “I haven’t had this much fun in years!”

“You, me, a dozen of my Sisters, the week after next,” Greta all but commanded.  “We’re going to have stimulating discussions, and dance until there are holes in our shoes.”

The two sat down at an abandoned table, in perfect view to see The Outsider drain a pint of beer faster than a bald bearded fellow who had a gut that proclaimed his expertise in the art of drinking. There was a roar of approval from the men surrounding them, and the Outsider’s burly competitor offered his hand and the Outsider shook it. He seemed to notice the two of them watching him, and walked over to them with a large smile on his face.

“I have not had such fun since the Saturnalia!” he declared before dropping in a chair next to Emily. 

Greta leaned forward. “The what now?”

The Outsider waved his hand, basically ignoring the Sister’s question. “I do miss some of the dances we used to do.  I do not think the musicians would know the music to them though.”

Elanor was passing by them but stopped upon hearing the Outsider’s words.

“When were the dances done again?” she asked, standing before them.

The Outsider scoffed at her words.  “What does it matter?”

Elanor placed a hand on her hip and leveled a gaze at him. “Part of what I can do is recall all music and song.  I just need to know the Holiday.”

“It was Saturnalia,” he said, sounding a little awed.  Elanor offered him a large smile, before leaning down to whisper in Emily’s ear.

“When he takes your hand don’t hesitate.”

Emily looked at her, confused.  Behind her strange glasses the Star winked, then made a bee-line for the musicians.

“Ooo, this is going to be good!” Greta said with glee. Emily was somewhat taken aback when a notebook and pencil suddenly appeared in her hands.

“Where on earth was she keeping those?”

The Outsider was quiet, a wistful expression on his face as he watched Elanor talk to the musicians.  After a minute, she turned around, standing tall and commanding attention.  The dance floor was empty.

Suddenly a strange, energetic music filled the pub.  Emily turned to the Outsider, and was surprised to see tears falling down his face.  He lifted up his hand and wiped them away.  Elanor was singing now, her voice powerful and sweet.  The words wore foreign, yet familiar.  The beat was infectious. 

“Emily, will you dance with me?”

She looked up to see the Outsider standing before her, offering his hand.

She smiled. “Only if you do not mind having a poor partner.”

He grinned widely as she took his and he pulled her onto the dance floor.

As soon as they stepped on the floor together she felt a force take over her. Elanor winked at her again as she sang.  Before Emily knew what was happening she was pulled into the Outsider’s arms.

Their faces were so close.  “I wish he did not need to wear those glasses,” she thought, biting her lip.

As they danced, Emily realized she knew every step; every complicated, acrobatic step.  She felt her smile grow as they spun, stomped, and even flipped around the floor to the wild beat. The Outsider picked her up and tossed her around like she weighed nothing. He sang along, his voice surprisingly captivating.  She swayed her hips to the rhythm, not caring how it seemed.  It felt like it was only them.

The music stopped suddenly, and so did they.  Emily stared into his eyes, breathing heavily.  The Outsider stared back.  All was still and quiet.

The Outsider leaned forward and kissed her.  

***

The pub roared with a wave of cheers, wolf-whistles, and applause following the kiss.  Greta was not one of the approving revealers.

It was not that she disapproved necessarily. If it made Emily happy, Greta would try to help.  But a complicated relationship to a deity openly reviled by the state religion was not what the Empress needed right now. 

Besides, after a dance that passionate, Greta would not be the least surprise if ending it with a kiss was tradition. 

“More!” roared a tall tattooed woman.  A cry of agreement rose up.  Emily looked unsure.  Showing a surprising amount of awareness, the Outsider took her by the hand and led her off the dance floor. 

“More of the same sort of music?” Elanor asked, a confident smile on her face.

“Yes!” shouted a group of young couples, their eyes alight. 

“You got it!”

The music started up again, with many more couples on the dance floor, eager to try and emulate the moves they had just seen.

The Outsider and Emily came over to her.  There was an awkwardness between them that was not there before.  Greta practically itched at the feeling.

“I… I will be over there,” The Outsider said to practically no one, and fled over to his drinking buddies.   Emily sank down in a chair, dazed.  Greta turned to face her.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Emily shook her head, as if trying to clear it.  “I… I think so?  Do you know what that was about?”

Greta shrugged.  “I honestly know nothing of attraction other than what I have read in books, so I fear I cannot be of much help.  All I know is that kiss could have been out of feeling, or a tradition of ending that kind of dance.”

“A traditional ending?” Emily’s voice was hazy.

“I do not know, the only one who knows is Owen over there.  For all we know maybe those dances are supposed to end with wild and passionate lovemaking.”

Emily barked a laugh.  “I bet my father is horrified.”

“Oh man,” Greta grimaced. “This is going to be an awkward ride home.”


	15. Chapter 14: Good and Bad Advice

##  Chapter 14: Good and Bad Advice

The Outsider found Greta in an empty corner of the Chapel library reading a newspaper while chewing on a pencil.  Checking that the vicinity was people free- and it was, he appeared before her.

“Greta I need your help.”

The little Zealot jumped at his voice, throwing the newspaper up and biting down on her pencil hard enough to make it crack.  Her eyes flicked up to him.  The Outsider lifted up his chin, his hands behind his back. Greta put down the pencil, and picked up and folded the newspaper.

“With remembering last night?” he opened his mouth to correct her but she ignored him entirely. “So, you made friends with a group of sailors, out-drank them all, sang a _lovely_ rendition of ‘The Harlot’s Tale’, drank some more, and on the ride back to the Tower started crying about whales.”

He blinked, taken somewhat aback. “I do not recall the last thing.”

“Oh, Billie and I do,” Greta raised her eyebrows before moving on in a rather terrible impression of his voice. “ _I can’t protect them Corvo!  They are soooo big, and my hands are toooo small to hold them!_ We were in stitches.  If only I had an audiograph…”

He could not take it anymore. “Greta I am serious!”  Her smile faded. “I do not know who else I can talk to…”

“So you did kiss Emily because you liked her!” she sounded like she had just solved a puzzle.

The Outsider stared at her, a feeling of anger and humiliation rising in his gut. “If you are just going to make fun of me I will leave.”

“No, wait!” Greta said, her face somewhat pained.  “I am sorry if that came off as mocking.  But after a dance that old and that passionate, it just looked like a tradition ending.  I even told Emily that could be the case.”

The Outsider put his face in his hands and groaned.  “Why would you tell her that?”

“I did not want to give her the wrong idea if that was the case,” Greta defended, crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair.  “Besides, it has only been around a week since she learned about Wyman getting married.  I think they were together for at least three years if gossip is reliable.  I doubt she is ready for anything serious just yet.”

He felt something drop inside him and it was almost like the Void was back with him.  The Outsider was struck by how unpleasant it felt.

“It was always this unpleasant,” his mind hissed. “You just became numb to it.”

“Outsider, are you alright?”  Greta sounded both concerned and fearful.

He realized that he was dematerializing, half in a shadow form, half in his physical form. 

“I do not know what to do,” he whispered.

The springs in the chair squeaked as Greta stood, and she carefully removed his hands from his face.

“I have no idea how to handle this, as I find anything surrounding love to be foreign and terrible.  I will try to help you, but I cannot promise that my advice will go over well.”

The Outsider sighed.  “As I said, I do not have anyone else I can turn to.”

Greta let go of his hands and took a step back. “Alright! Have you considered anonymous love letters?”

***

It only took a day for Emily to notice the Outsider’s absence.  He did not join her for breakfast, nor for lunch, like he had begun to do since the slaughterhouse incident.  He was not there to whisper secrets in her ear as she met with the Prime Minister, or mock the rich whaling barons as they petitioned her again to lift the oil rationing. 

She missed him. And yet, she was initially grateful for his distance.  After that kiss on her birthday, Emily was not sure what she felt towards him.  Oh, she was attracted to him.  She had always been a sucker for high cheekbones and oh-so-messy hair; there was also something seductive about his eyes.  But beyond that; beyond the desire of what was forbidden?  Emily needed to think.

A few more days passed with him absent from her life, and Emily found she missed talking to him.  Unlike with Wyman, Emily did not feel she had to choose between spending time with a friend or ruling the Empire.  The Outsider dispensed advice alongside wit, and listened to her ramble for hours on topics from updating trade agreements with Morley to accepting an invitation to attend a soirée hosted by the Whites.  With him at her side, Emily felt more confident with her decisions, and more certain that her choices were the right ones.  She missed him whispering secrets into her ear, she missed his silent support.  She missed the single-minded attention that kindled something warm inside of her.

Each day dragged on, as Emily signed documents, attended events, and listened to petitioners.  Towards the end of a particularly taxing day, Greta appeared for a surprise, but very welcome visit. Immediately she pulled her aside to sit in the library together.

Emily took a seat in one of the comfy chairs by the fire as Greta shoved a cup of tea in her hands.

“These past few days you have looked gloomier than a wolfhound that has lost their favorite bone,” the Sister’s tone was sharp with worry.

Emily looked down into the teacup; its contents were a light green, and she could see tiny petals floating within the liquid.   “I have not seen the Outsider for the past week.”

Greta was silent, and looked expectantly at her, waiting for Emily to continue.

“I miss not having him around.  I miss being able to talk about whales with him, being able to mock MP Baldwin together.  I miss his horrible table manners.”

There was a beat of silence.  “It sounds like you miss him as your friend,” Greta said kindly.

“I do, but…” Emily trailed off, frustrated. “It feels more than that.  He has shared secrets with me about the paths my choices would lead me, he has guided me through negotiations, and he has encouraged me to think freely.  And…I would not mind being kissed by him again.” She finished with a mumble. 

There was the clinking of metal against ceramic as Greta stirred her tea.  “To be completely honest, it still sounds to me that you prefer him as a friend.”

Emily took a sip from her cup.  It was warm and sweet, tasting like violets and honeysuckle.  She thought about what Greta said.  Was the Outsider just a dear friend?  She thought back again to her birthday and the dances they shared together.  Emily recalled an electric feeling of his hands on her, a giddiness of sharing a space so small, and she recalled pushing those emotions out of her mind as soon as she felt them. 

“He is a friend,” Emily concluded quietly.  “But I also want there to be more between us.”

***

Billie scowled as she found yet another neatly folded scrap of paper.  They had been popping up all over the Tower for the last week, left on bookshelves, hiding in vases, resting atop important documents.  The more she gathered them, the more appeared.  And without fail, each and every one was a neatly typed, yet poorly written, love poem.

Some were not that terrible.  She had a particular fondness for a short one which sweetly likened a kiss to an exchange of secrets. But most made her cringe, one she even tore to shreds after reading it.

Billie had a hunch who was writing them, but felt that she should limit her role to removing the poems before Emily could find them. 

“So you are the one who was taking all my poems,” the Outsider did not sound surprised, just sad. “Did Emily ask you to do this?”

The quiet melancholy in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. Fuck, now she was feeling sorry for that black-eyed bastard.

“Emily has no idea these poems even exist,” Billie replied, crossing her arms across her chest. “Which is for the best, considering how terrible some of them are.”

The Outsider winced, but took the criticism with defeated resignation. 

“What made you think this was a good idea?” Billie could not help sound disappointed.

“I asked Greta for advice.” He admitted, his voice just above a whisper.

“Greta?!” she hissed incredulously. “You asked the Oracular Sister for advice regarding love?”

His ears turned red as he blushed. “Who else was I supposed to talk to?  You?  Corvo!?”

“You could have talked to Emily about how you felt,” Billie snapped. “Rather than hiding from her and leaving terrible poems all over the place.”

The Outsider was quiet.  Billie looked at him, really looked at him for a moment, and was struck by how young he seemed.  There was a frailness around him, and a lot of his quiet confidence was gone.  She sighed.

“I know rejection hurts, but you and Emily cannot keep dancing around each other until you return to the Void.  She misses you, and you miss her.  The only way you are going to fix that is if you talk to her.”

He merely nodded, putting his hands in his pockets before vanishing.  Billie picked up the scrap of paper that she had been glaring at earlier and put it in her pocket.  At least she would not be finding any more of these around the Tower. 


	16. Chapter 15: Confession

##  Chapter 15: Confession

Emily exited the library, tired.  She wanted to talk to the Outsider, but finding him was not simple.  He always came to her, another thing she both liked and was annoyed by.  In any case, the hour was late, and she wandered back to her quarters.  Emily sat on her bed and let herself flop backwards with a sigh.  Her eyes wandered over to look at the bookcase which hid the safe room.  Was he in there? 

As if he heard her thoughts, the Outsider appeared before her, the Void licking his frame before fading.  Emily could not keep the smile from her face and sat up.  He offered a smile back, one more fragile, more vulnerable.

“Come, sit,” she offered, patting the bed beside her.  He seemed to steel himself before going to sit.  The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and a heavy silence settled between them.  The Outsider was fiddling with one of his rings, looking at his hands.  Emily watched him, uncertain if she should break the silence.

“Emily,” he started, slowly turning to look at her. “We need to talk about us.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed, looking him in the eyes.  She saw him swallow and take a breath; she got the impression he was close to breaking.

“I…” he looked back at his hands, clearly struggling to find words. “You are the most extraordinary human I have ever talked to.”

Emily felt an awkward laugh bubble out of her mouth. “I doubt that is the case…”

The Outsider took her hands in his.  She felt her mark throb on the back of left hand.

“When I was in pain from that rune, you helped me.  You have fed me, clothed me, and sheltered me.  Nobody I have ever whispered to, nobody I have ever Marked would have done the same.”

Emily was taken aback by his determination. She knew he had a rather pessimistic view of humanity, but she did not believe that she would have been the only one who would have helped him out.

He chuckled, and his eyes softened. “After all that has happened to you, you still think kindly of humanity.  You have a good heart- you could have let Karnaca crumble but instead you saved it.  You offered mercy to Delilah, even though she did not deserve it.  Emily, you have returned to your throne with the desire to do good and rule well, and have succeeded with both!”

Emily felt herself blush at the praised, and ducked her head. “You have helped me with both,” she mumbled.

The Outsider tilted his head, their eyes meeting again.  “I gave you my mark out of interest, but now I would gladly give all my magic to you because I know you will use it wisely.  You do not abuse my gifts, you do not blindly follow every word I say.”

“Really?” Emily raised a brow at that.

“Remember when I advised against allowing Marcell Blinker being appointed Minister of Justice?” his tone was playful.

“You spoke quite vehemently against him,” she said, thoughtful. “I nearly followed your words, after all you do give good advice.”

“But you did not.”

Emily snorted; he sounded so pleased at being ignored. “No, I decided to talk to him about the matter, and now we have an adept Minister who learned from his crime and is unwilling to be corrupted again.”

The look of admiration he was giving her warmed her to her bones.  She felt her blush return.

“I missed you this past week,” she admitted quietly.  “I even missed your horrible eating habits.”

He laughed and blushed. “It gladdens my heart to hear you missed me.  I missed you too.”  The Outsider became quiet again, his eyes returning back to his hands.  “Being a part of your life means a great deal to me, and I have been scared that you would no longer want me around if you knew of my regard for you.”

His deep black eyes looked back at her, fearful and vulnerable.   Emily squeezed his hands, not to certain what to say, but wanting to ease his anxieties.

“Your presence and company also mean a lot to me,” she said slowly, but putting as much of her earnest goodwill as she could in each word.  “I honestly thought you would disappear, lose interest in me after a few days.  I have few friends, and it sometimes floors me that I can call you one.  You are wanted here, I want you here.”

The Outsider said nothing, but brought her hands to his lips. He kissed them gently, his eyes looking up at hers with heated devotion.

“Court me,” the words came out breathily, the breath stolen from her lungs.

The Outsider straightened, still holding her hands and her gaze.  He seemed stunned, like he had been given a gift.

“I… I am not entirely certain of me feelings yet, but I want us to be more than friends.” Now it was Emily’s turn to stutter.  The Outsider was now grinning a wide, stupid grin.

“By the void he is adorable,” Emily thought.  Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward and kissed him. 

***

Four thousand years in the Void the Outsider had spent in a constant struggle to feel the emotions he wanted to feel.   The Void itself hungrily sucked away everything, leaving him numb. The closest he had gotten to being happy was whenever his Marked pleasantly surprised him.

But now, in the world mortal, with Emily kissing him, he felt so happy that it felt impossible to feel any other way.   The Void felt like it did not exist, and all he could see in his mind was her- not flashes of horrible futures.  He felt human.

The kiss ended, and the Outsider rested his forehead on Emily’s, a stupid grin on his face.  Neither of them moved, and he would have been happy to remain that way for another thousand years.  Emily dropped her head to his shoulder and yawned.

“As nice as it would to stay like this, cannot both fall asleep here and leave my maid to wonder who you are,” her voice was heavy with sleep. “Though you are very comfortable… and you smell nice.”

The Outsider put his head atop hers and said nothing, both basking in her regard and agreeing with her assertion about the maid. 

“If you do not move I will be more than happy to fall asleep as is right now,” Emily threatened into the cloth of his jacket.

Must he be the responsible one?  He looked down at Emily, who was still dressed in her boots and her formal clothes. 

“You might want to change into something more comfortable,” he suggested quietly.

She playfully smacked his thigh.  “Woo me first before you say something so rakish to me.  But I forgive you.”

He blushed, the implication of what he said caught up to him.  The Outsider gently kissed Emily on the forehead, and slowly stood up.

“I will see you in the morning,” he said, warmth and affection bleeding into his farewell.

“You better,” Emily replied while taking off her boots. “How else will I learn new ways of eating toast?”

He laughed softly and allowed himself to melt into shadows. For the first time in his entire life that he could remember, the Outsider was truly excited to see tomorrow. 


	17. Chapter 16: Stalking

##  Chapter 16: Stalking

It was far more difficult than Billie expected to keep tabs on the Outsider, especially when so much else was going on in the Isles.  Reports from Morley indicated the most of the nobles were disappointed that Emily did not conveniently die while getting rid of Delilah.  Tyvia was as strict and cold as rumored, and much to Billie’s relief they were interested in resuming business as usual with Gristol.  Serkonos was in much better shape and the very least of their worries. 

The relief of not being underneath Delilah’s fickle thumb meant that the Parliament and populace of Dunwall were fully supportive of Emily.  Of course, newfound appreciation of the Empress was not enough to stop gang activity or lessen crime, but that was more an issue for the City Watch than the Spymaster.

The Outsider seemed to behave himself, though increasing reports from whaling ships reported multiple creatures bearing the Mark of the Outsider that were impossible to catch. 

“Much like their master,” Billie thought.  She once tried to tail him, but the slippery bastard disappeared before her very eyes before appearing immediately behind her and scaring the living daylights out of her.  She wondered if Corvo had better luck.

“Lurk.”

“Speak of the Void,” Billie thought as the Royal Protector approached her.  She had not interacted him since Emily’s birthday; he was certainly in a foul mood following the Outsider kissing Emily.

“Though I would pay good money to see the Outsider weeping into his jacket about whales again,” Billie tried not to let her good humor show on her face, especially since Corvo looked particularly sour.  Instead she plastered an attentive look on her face and folded her hands behind her back.

“I need another pair of eyes,” Corvo said by way of introduction. “Come, we are going to the Boiled Mermaid.”

Billie tried not to get irked by the commanding tone combined with the lack of information and followed him.

“Another pair of eyes for what?” she asked.

“The Outsider,” he replied, his tone gruff. 

She rolled her eyes. “First of all, how do you know he is at the Boiled Mermaid?  Second of all, what could he be doing that would be so worthy of our attention?”

“I saw him leave the tower wearing the dark glasses,” Corvo said shortly as they left the tower and entered a railcar. “The Boiled Mermaid is the only place he has been where he was visible to others.  He made friends there.”

Friends; how odd it was for the Outsider to have something as ordinary as friends.

“I don’t see anything nefarious in meeting up with friends,” Billie grumbled as the railcar lurched forward.   A muscle twitched in Corvo’s jaw.

“He kisses Emily, then disappears for a week.  Yesterday I walked in to find the two of them eating breakfast and chatting like he had not been missing for an entire week.  Something is up.”

“So the Outsider did take my advice,” she thought. “Whatever happened, they seem to be on speaking terms again.”  Aloud she said:

“At least you did not walk in and find the two of them doing something else.”

The horrified look on his face caused Billie to cackle.  “Relax Attano. If you ask me Emily is more likely to break the Outsider’s heart rather the other way around.”

Corvo just harrumphed and stared out of the railcar window. 

***

It felt strange to be doing something so normal.  It had only taken a night of drinking for the Outsider… well, “Owen” really, to be invited to join a group of friends for drinks and cards whenever he felt like it.  So here he was, playing Nancy with a sailor, a bargeman, and two Hatters. 

“So what do you do Owen?” asked the sailor, a Morley native called Fergus.

“A little this, a little that,” the Outsider replied airily. “Currently I work at the Tower.”

One of the Hatters (Roger was his name) chuckled. “I knew you worked somewhere fine with those glasses and rings of yours.”

“Speaking of fine, what’s between you and that dark-haired dame?” the bargeman asked, waggling his brows.  “The fine-looking one you kissed that week ago.”

The Outsider tried not to blush. “I am courting her.”

The other Hatter clapped him hard on the back, a fellow by the name of Todd. “Congratulations! Now, I am guessing that you stopped by here tonight for some advice, not just to get your ass kicked at Nancy?”

He winced and forced a laugh. “Was it that obvious?”

“You have the look of a lost boy about you,” Fergus said kindly.  “Someone who has not had anyone to turn to most of your life.”

“But now you’ve got us!” Roger declared with a large grin. “We know a thing or two about treating a bird special.”

Indeed they all did.  Louie the bargeman was happily married, and had been so for at least seven years.  Fergus had a sweetheart back in Morley, either had yet to stray from the other.  As for Roger and Todd, they were less steady with partners.  But they had a knack for dazzling their women, and leaving them impressed and satisfied.  Yes, they were a good group to ask about affairs of the heart.

“Our only caveat,” the bargeman declared with a twinkle in his eye. “Is that you return next week and tell us how our advice went.”

The Outsider smirked. “You men drive a hard bargain.  Very well, I accept!”

The men laughed and set down their cards, the game forgotten.

“So, tell us how you got her to agree to courting you in the first place?” Todd said, leaning forward.

“We simply talked, and she asked me to court her,” he replied with a shrug. 

“Not a bad start,” Fergus commented, folding his hands and resting them on the table. “A good relationship takes a lot of talking.”

“But a courtship,” Roger interjected, holding up a finger. “Means that the gal ain’t quite sure about you yet, so you gotta impress her and show that she made the right choice.  So, what gifts have you given her so far?”

The Outsider blinked. “Gifts?”

The four men looked gobsmacked for a brief moment. 

Louie put his head in his hands.  “Ai boy, you must have quite the personality if she’s asked you to court her.”

“Or quite the cock,” added Todd matter-of-factly. The other three gave him disbelieving looks.  The Outsider tried not to turn red with embarrassment. Todd paid no heed to the looks, and carried on with dispensing advice.

“Gifts, my good man, are a way of showing a gal that you know her, you can anticipate her needs, that you can take care of her if you knock her up.”

“Though try not to knock her up until you’re married,” Fergus cautioned.  “It’s no good trying to start a family if only one of you is sure you want to be together.”

The four men nodded wisely.  The Outsider privately thought that was not going to be an issue, but looked attentive anyway.

“So, what sort of gifts should I be giving?” he asked. 

“Well, what does she not have?” Louie suggested.    

The Outsider leaned back in his chair, far enough that it was balancing on its two hind legs.  What _did_ Emily not have?   She certainly would never want for food or clothes, the Tower could be completely refurnished to her taste if she so wished it.  Perhaps information and the ability to predict the future… but that was what he was there for.  But there was nothing obviously romantic about sharing political secrets and murmurings about vague futures.  What did other rulers have which she did not?  An idea came to him, and he rocked back forward.

“Do any of you know where I could get foreign creatures?”

***

Corvo watched the Outsider talk with the four men as he nursed a pint.  Billie abandoned him to talk to a burly woman when the five dropped their cards and started talking in earnest.  He sat just far enough away that it was not obvious that he was watching them.  The downside to that was he could barely hear their conversation.  He could see the Outsider flush pink multiple times, one of the men placing their head in their hands one point, and a skinny youth gesture with knowing importance during another.  Billie returned to the table just as the Outsider rocked backwards in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face.

“We should call it quits Attano,” she said, an annoyed look on her face. “This is clearly a waste of time.”

Corvo hummed in dissent behind his pint, narrowing his eyes as the Outsider rocked forward and the five men leaned in.  Billie made a noise of irritation, and the wooden chair squeaked as she sat down. 

“Admit it, you cannot hear what they are saying at all,” she said pointedly. 

“Did you get what they were saying?” he retorted, determined not to admit that he may have allowed his protective father instincts to go too far.

“No, because I was busy actually doing something productive and talking with a potential operative,” Billie sassed before taking a sip of her whiskey. 

They watched the group of five in silence for another few minutes.  They all leaned back, and seemed to be settled with the discussion.  Then the Outsider turned around and waved at them. Corvo tried to not choke on his beer.  Billie waved back, offering a small smile along with it.  The group began gesturing for him and Billie to join them, and with deep reluctance they stood up and walked over to the group.

“Protector Attano, Spymaster Lurk, fancy seeing you here,” the Outsider greeted with far too much innocent surprise.  Corvo could not help but glower at him. The little shit had known they were there the whole time. 

“Nice to see you taking advice from people who are not part of the Oracular Order,” replied Billie with a smirk and a sip.  The smug smile immediately fell off his face while the other men at the table started to howl with laughter.

“You took… love advice… from a fuckin’ Blind Sister?!” wheezed the skinny youth between cackles of delight.  A broad older man was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes.  Another youth was smacking the table while laughing like a gull.  The blond sailor was the only one who did not seem sent over the edge, but appeared to be no less amused.   Corvo himself was chuckling.

“So, what did Sister Manderly say to you?” he taunted.  The Outsider gave him quite a chilling look from behind the dark lenses.

“It was cliché things that one would find in a novel,” he replied, his voice just a little too icy to go unnoticed by the group.  The sailor reached out and patted him on the shoulder. 

“One of my cousins is in the Order back in Morley, and she offered wonderful advice on most things but love,” he said kindly.  “At least you did ask for advice rather than blundering your way into a potentially hurtful mess.”

The rest of the men got ahold of themselves and offered similar reassurances and pats on the back.   The Outsider nodded back, a small smile on his face.  Corvo felt a bit awkward standing there, looming over the group.  He glanced over at Billie, who polished off her whiskey and looked down at the Outsider.

“Attano and I are returning to the Tower, Owen.  Care for a lift back?”

Corvo was so certain that he was going to refuse that he was taken aback when the Outsider said:

“You know what, yes thank you, I would appreciate a lift back.”

So after saying their goodbyes, with the four men reminding the Outsider to return next week and “update them”, the three of them got into a railcar, with the Outsider sitting alone across from them. He took off his glasses, and his black eyes were brimming with anger.

“So, did you get the show you wanted?”

Corvo could feel the Void practically dripping off each word.  Billie visibly shuddered.

“Look,” she said, her voice remarkably even. “I am sorry we did not have enough faith in you-”

She was abruptly cut off by the Outsider raising his hand. “ _You_ were not the one who lacked confidence in my good intentions, though I did not appreciate being made a fool of in front of my peers, especially when one of them thinks I used to be a bedwarmer for Baron Griess.”

Corvo found himself shivering at the dropping temperature.  The thrum of the Void was in his ears, and the Outsider turned his considerable cold fury to him.

“Dear Corvo, have you so little faith in the maturity of your daughter that you must stalk her potential lovers?” he hissed. 

Corvo found himself bristling, and glared back at the deity. “It is my job to shield the Empress from people who would harm her-”

He was cut off by his tongue freezing to the roof of his mouth as the Outsider seemed to blaze with ire.

“You think I would harm Emily?” he snarled. “I would willingly pull all the magic from my being for her; I would put the knife to my throat again for her.”

Corvo found his tongue loose again; he was not swayed by the Void god’s passionate promises.

“How could I trust that she is not some passing entertainment for you?” Corvo snarled back. “Like all of your Marked?”

A somewhat hysterical laugh bubbled out of the Outsider. “Am I even the same person as the one you met those fifteen years ago?”

Billie looked at him, astonished.  Corvo reflected on those words, and especially how the Outsider seemed to be realizing them as he uttered them.  Gone was the dispassionate alien being who was barely phased by anything.  Gone was the god who Marked him. 

“No,” answered Corvo with a hushed whisper. “You have changed.”

The Outsider nodded. “Let your daughter pass her own judgment on me.  I will not suffer yours.”

At those words the railcar came to a halt, and he dematerialized from the car.  Corvo found himself turning to Billie, whose dark skin was unsettlingly pale.

“You know what is funny?” she murmured just before she opened the door.  “I’ve forgotten to be afraid of him.”

He hummed in agreement before leaving the car. “So have I.”


	18. Chapter 17: Witch Hunter

##  Chapter 17: Witch Hunter

The chapel library was abuzz as Greta and her Sisters met once again, gathered in a circle of chairs and couches next to a fireplace. Sister Reilly was sitting beside Sister Mary on the couch; the former knitting a pair of colorful gloves and the latter reading the recently-published novel _The Dark Empress_.   Sister Hope was sitting on the floor with her back against her chair and the low coffee table pulled up right against her chest.  She had a typewriter set before her, and typed with a mix of care and anger as she jabbed her pointer fingers at each chosen letter.   Sister Eileen was sitting in her chair upside-down; feet dangling over the top of the plush back as she held her book on textile manufacturing aloft.   Greta returned from the bookshelves with a small stack of heretic’s journals, and plopped down in an empty chair. 

“Where is Bernice?” she asked, noting the blind Sister’s absence.

“I saw her with Sister Rosewyn just after breakfast,” Eileen replied absently.  

“Do you think it has to do with the new High Overseer?” Sister Reilly said nervously. 

Hope stopped typing and looked up. “Wait, we have a new High Overseer?”

“Yes, he was just chosen yesterday,” Sister Mary answered without looking up from her novel. 

“Huh,” Greta chose a journal off the top of her pile. “I wonder if the Empress knows.”

At that moment there were footsteps as Bernice ran over to the group and skidded to a halt just behind the couch, slamming her hands onto its top.  Sister Reilly yelped and dropped a stich, and Sister Mary jumped in surprised.

“Pavel Chopin is the new High Overseer,” Bernice blurted out, her face serious.

“Ah, the witch hunter!” cried Eileen, not looking up from her book. “Cannot say I’m surprised.”

“The fellow that hunted down and killed the Tyvian traitor Zhukov?” Greta asked. 

“The very same,” Bernice replied gravely.

“I read some of his treatises on countering the effects of bonecharms,” Greta said, placing aside the journal she had yet to open. “They were well thought out and clearly spelled out his method.  It looked easy to replicate, but I have not got around to trying it out yet.”

“He is coming to our chapel to ask us how we defeated the witches, and how we defeated Delilah in particular!” Bernice finished in a raised voice.

A hush fell over the library.  Other groups of Sisters were staring at them.  Eileen dropped her book on her face upon hearing the news.

“First off, we did not defeat Delilah- Empress Emily did.  As for the witches, we can just tell them we were super stealthy,” Greta suggested.  “To be honest, the witches themselves were not as big as a struggle as those Clockwork soldiers.”

Eileen scoffed, and turned herself upright. “Yes, with the gifts Elanor bestowed up us they were certainly easy to find, avoid, and fight.  But without it?  I seriously doubt we could have gotten far.”

“The Abbey does not train for stealth,” Hope said loftily. “We march in and crush the opposition.  You know that as well as I do.  The very first thing he is going to wonder is how fifteen Sisters were able to succeed where forty  Overseers failed; not in defeating the witches, but getting in the damn tower itself.”

Sister Reilly looked somewhat lost, having abandoned her knitting to try and follow the discussion.  Sister Mary merely looked curious.

“What do you mean getting in the tower?” she asked. “From how Sister Delly recounted it, you cleared out the grounds before entering the tower and going to the basement and working your way up.  That sounds normal enough to me.”

“Sister Delly is technically correct in her report, and if it was just us as the source, I do not think I would be concerned.  After all, no one would think that the Oracular Sisters would be using magic,” Bernice said while leaning on the couch.  “But now that the funerals are done and new Brothers have come to the Abbey, the Overseers have started interviewing the witches that were captured.”

Hope leaned back, placing her elbows atop the chair’s cushion. “Why would any of the Overseers ask the witches about us?  Would they not be more focused on asking what magic they themselves performed?”

“Normally yes,” Bernice was now fiddling with a loose string on the couch upholstery.  “But Pavel Chopin is trying to determine what worked against them, and that involves asking the witches what we did to defeat them.”

Eileen threw her head back and groaned. “So some witchy bitch that Greta and Marzia did not have the balls to kill is going to rat on us.”

“Hey!” Greta cried, offended.

“Would it not be best to simply tell Chopin about Elanor?” Sister Reilly suggested quietly.

Bernice heaved a sigh. “That’s what Sister Rosewyn is trying to find out.  I would rather not die just as things have started to get better.”

As if summoned by her name Sister Rosewyn approached them with a stony expression on her face.

“Sister Manderly, Sister Wilder, I want you both to go at once to Dunwall Tower to inform the Empress of our new High Overseer and about Elanor,” she commanded.  “I have informed the High Oracle of our predicament and she is backing us.  I would like us to also have the backing of the Empress if things turn sour.”

Greta jumped out of her chair and gathered up the journals.  Sister Mary stood up, holding out her hands.

“Give them to me Greta, I will put them back,” she offered soothingly.

Greta smiled thankfully at her mentor as she placed the stack in her arms.  Bernice was waiting for her impatiently a few feet away.

“Come, they have a railcar waiting for us.”

***

They exited the railcar and walked as fast as they politely could into the tower.  Greta shot smiles at familiar guards and servants, while Bernice followed close behind.

“You seem to know a lot of people here,” Bernice remarked with admiration.

“I am here just often enough that the staff has gotten to know me,” Greta said with a shrug. “All of them are very kind people.”

They entered the main hall, and started up the stairs.

“Should we ask someone where the Empress is?” Bernice asked, concerned. “We are arriving very much unannounced.”

Greta waved her hand. “I arrive announced all the time, it’s no bother. Besides, she told me she will be spending most of her day in her office today.”

As they rounded the corner Greta spotted a familiar black-clothed figure walking the empty hallway carrying what looked like a covered birdcage.

“Owen?” Greta could not help her surprised greeting. 

The Outsider stopped moving and turned towards the Sisters. 

“Greta,” he greeted, his voice somewhat stilted. “We thought you were to be at the chapel all day.”

“Something came up, and we need to talk to the Empress,” Greta explained.  She glanced at Bernice, whose sightless eyes were aimed right at the Outsider, and her brow was furrowed.

“Sister Bernice, this is Owen, one of the advisors to the Empress. Owen, this is Sister Bernice.”

Bernice nodded at him, a suspicious expression on her face.  The Outsider nodded back.  Whatever was in the covered cage squawked, causing the two Sisters to look at it.

“What is that?” asked Bernice warily.

“A gift for the Empress,” the Outsider replied tightly. “Come, she is in her office.”

He set off down the hall, and Greta moved to follow him but was stopped by Bernice grabbing her elbow and pulling her in for a whisper.

“Is it just me or does Owen sound like a witch?”

Greta made a noise of uncertainty. “What does a witch sound like?”

“There is the hiss of the Void in their words,” Bernice said, before starting to walk. “Something not of this world.”

Greta tried not to gulp as a knot of unease settled in her stomach.  The silence in the hallway was tense, and they caught up to the Outsider waiting by the office door.  He looked at the Sisters expectantly, and Greta took the doorknob and opened the door.

The Outsider stepped into the room first. “Greta and Sister Bernice here to see you, Empress,” he announced.

The two followed him in, Bernice looking nervous.  Emily had stood up behind her desk, and seemed to have eyes only for the covered cage that was now resting on a table.

“What is that?”

The Outsider stood by the cage, looking almost like a guard.  “A gift for you, Empress.”

A light blush colored Emily’s cheeks and a warm smile soon followed. “You shouldn’t have.”

Greta’s eyes flicked between Emily and the Outsider, noting the mutual affection in their expressions.  Bernice seemed to feel the vibe in the room as well.

“I feel like we are intruding on something,” she muttered into Greta’s ear.

He took the cover off the cage, and both Emily and Greta gasped as they saw the bird inside.  It was a multitude of shimmering blues, and no larger than the size of her fist.  The bird warbled sweetly, and Greta watched Emily melt.

“I love it so much!” she gushed, approaching the cage.  The Outsider looked exceptionally proud of himself.

“What is it?” Bernice whispered.

“A tiny bird about this big,” Greta made a fist and put Bernice’s hand on it. “It’s very blue and very pretty.”

“It sounds very pretty,” Bernice remarked somewhat wistfully.

Emily crouched down to look at the bird, an expression of wonder on her face.

“Open the cage,” the Outsider encouraged.   She looked at him, uncertain.

“Is that alright?”

He just gave her a mysterious smile.  With a little sigh, Emily opened the cage door.

With surprising speed the little bird exited the cage and perched itself on Emily’s outstretched hand.   The Empress seemed to hold her breath as the round little thing tilted its head, looking at her.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi!” the bird cheeped back. 

Emily’s jaw dropped, as did Greta’s.

“What the fuck?” cried Bernice, clearly forgetting her manners.

“What the fuck!” cheeped the little bird proudly.

Greta tried and failed not to laugh.  Bernice blushed.

The Outsider smiled proudly as Emily looked up at him, astonished.

“Where on earth did you find this creature?”

The Outsider crouched down beside her, noticeably close.

“It is a Pandyssian Parrot,” he explained, his voice low and warm.  “They are clever, vain little things that enjoy the company of royalty.  She will never fly far from your side.”

The little bird beeped at the Outsider, before flitting over to perch on Emily’s shoulder.  Greta just stared at the two of them gazing adoringly at each other.

“I have been gone for three days,” she murmured.  “Only three days…”

Bernice cleared her throat loudly, breaking the spell.

“I apologize for interrupting Empress, but Sister Greta and I come bearing news.”

Emily shot up, looking somewhat embarrassed. “No, that is quite alright Sister…?”

“Bernice Wilder, your Majesty.”

“Bernice!” an easy smile crossed Emily’s face. “You were one of the sisters that helped retake the Tower.”

“That I was, Empress,” Bernice said with a gruff pride.

“Come, let us sit,” Emily invited them over to a corner of the office with three chairs.  Greta led Bernice to one, and took the other.  Emily sat regally across from the two, while the Outsider stood just behind her, looking all the world like the Royal Protector.  The little blue gem of a bird sat quietly on Emily’s shoulder.

“A new High Overseer has been chosen,” Bernice reported solemnly. “It is Pavel Chopin.”

The Outsider stiffened at the revelation, puzzling Greta.  What did he know that they did not?

“I am afraid that I am not familiar with Chopin,” Emily admitted.

“He’s a brilliant witch hunter,” Greta explained. “In Tyvia he successfully chased down the fugitive traitor Zhukov, who broke out of Utyrka using dark magic.”

“He has a knack for understanding the mechanics of bonecharms,” the Outsider added softly. “Recently he invented a more compact version of the Overseer music boxes.”

Bernice gave the Outsider yet another suspicious look, but shook it off as she addressed Emily.

“He is coming to Dunwall within the next few days to interview us regarding our success against Delilah’s coven, and Delilah herself.”

Emily’s face fell for a moment, but she immediately placed it behind a mask of mild interest. “A wise move on his part, considering that your chapel was the only part of the Abbey to attack them successfully.”

Bernice winced. “We did not do it unaided.”  Each word sounded like it was being painfully pulled from her mouth

Realization crossed the Outsider’s face, but he remained silent.  A wary look crossed Emily’s face.

“I am not sure I follow…”

Bernice stood up.  “Allow use to demonstrate, Empress”

Emily turned her palm up and tilted her head. “Very well, proceed.”

With great speed a baton fell from Bernice’s sleeve into her hand, and she swung for Greta’s head.  With a yelp Greta ducked, the baton whooshing over her head.

“Seriously Greta?” Bernice snapped. “Put on your blindfold and show the Empress our gifts.”

“We cannot just brawl in the Empress’ office,” Greta protested.

“It is not a brawl, it is a demonstration!” Bernice replied, exasperated.

Greta looked at Emily, who offered her a reassuring smile. With a sigh, she put her blindfold on.

***

Emily tried not to jump as Bernice swung as Greta again, only for the Sister to abruptly vanish and appeared on the wall.  Bernice jumped up and made a twisting motion with her hand- a strange platform of light appeared and she landed on it. Greta threw an arc mine at her and set it off in air.  The shock reached Bernice, but instead of dissolving into ash, her clothes faintly smoked.  Greta jumped down from the wall, and Bernice dismissed the little platform.  Greta looked rather sheepish, but Bernice, Bernice was staring at the Outsider, her mouth agap and her skin pale.

“Greta,” her voice was fearful. “Where are Owen’s eyes?”


	19. Chapter 18:  A New Sheep in the Fold

##  Chapter 18: A New Sheep in the Fold

Emily watched Greta force a laugh.  “What are you talking about silly?  His eyes are right there.”

“No, no they are not right there,” Bernice pushed back, fear making her angry.  “I know you see what I see, so do not play dumb.”

Greta took Bernice’s hand, and walked her over to the Outsider, who had a very wary look on his face.

“Here, feel,” Greta placed her Sister’s hand on the Outsider’s face.  “Does it feel like he has no eyes?”

Bernice yanked her hand away, much to the Outsider’s very visible relief.  She rounded on Greta.

“What the fuck are you trying to hide?”

Greta cracked like an egg. “The Empress knows about Elanor.  She’s met her twice and we went dancing together.”

Well, Greta cracked in a way Emily was not expecting, much to her relief.

“What?” Bernice breathed, her whole body emanating confusion. 

“The Empress asked me how we were able to take on the witches, and I just wasn’t thinking so I summoned Elanor, and well, the two hit it off very nicely and we went dancing together for the Empress’ birthday, and I know I should have told the chapel-”

Bernice cut off Greta’s blathering with a hand over her mouth. “I believe every word you are saying now, but that does _not_ explain why the fuck this ‘Owen’ person has the fucking Void where his fucking eyes are supposed to be!”   Each curse was punctuated with the Sister shaking her baton in the Outsider’s direction.

Greta carefully removed Bernice’s hand from her mouth.  “What if I told you that Owen is actually the Outsider?” she said with a squeak and a too large smile.

Emily could not stop herself from putting her face into her palm with a loud smack.

Bernice started laughing.  “You cannot be serious.”

The Outsider opened his mouth, but Emily grabbed his hand and projected her thoughts

“Don’t you dare say anything.”

When everyone failed to respond to Bernice’s query her face turned from incredulous to astonished.

“Really, that’s the Outsider?”

“Yep,” replied Greta with a grimace.

“What the fuck is he doing here giving birds to the Empress?” Bernice asked, looking more bewildered than anything else.  Emily would take that above zealous religious rage any day.

“I don’t know about the ‘giving birds’ part,” admitted Greta.  “But he’s here because we exploded the Void.”

“Exploded the Void?!” Bernice’s voice got shrill.

“Yeah, that was an accident,” Greta had quite the look on her face, and appeared to be trying to melt into the floor.

“I don’t care if that is an accident, who is ‘we’?!” Bernice was turning red and gesturing violently with her hands.   Emily decided to try and cut in.

“Sister Bernice,” the Sister whirled to her, looking close to hyperventilating.  “Take a breath, have a seat.  You too, Greta.”

Bernice looked quite embarrassed, and started to take long, calming breaths as she walked back to the chair.  Greta took her seat just after that, and Emily waited for Bernice to center herself.

The little bird on her shoulder warbled a tune, bringing a small smile to her face.  It was easily the sweetest present anyone has given her.

“Are you ready?” she asked.  Bernice nodded, an even look on her face.

“The ‘we’ is me and Greta,” Emily said.  “I had discovered a way to defeat Delilah by using her own magic against her by adding a corrupted rune to her throne.  Greta was with me and helped make the rune.  It worked by defeating Delilah, but it also trapped the Outsider here.”

Bernice inhaled deeply and held up her hands, pointer fingers aloft. 

“So Greta, my Sister Greta, imbued with the same magic as me, helped you corrupt that rune?”

Emily was somewhat bemused by her doubt.  “Yes, she added an ingredient.”

“There is literally no way she could have done that without blowing us all to smithereens,” Bernice declared with absolute certainty.

“Wait, really?” Greta sounded as surprised as Emily herself was.

“Did you _not_ listen to what Elanor said?” Bernice cried, her voice raising an octave.

“Yes, not to touch bonecharms or runes,” Greta snapped back.

Bernice heaved a sigh and began to rub her temples.  “Greta, she also warned us not to participate in making them.”

Greta winced. “Ooooh.”

“You carry within yourselves my energy, and you are able to do many things with it,” quoted Bernice. “You must never allow this energy to mix with the magic of the Void, for the result will level Dunwall.”

“If that is the case,” the Outsider said softly.  “Would that not mean that your mere touch is potent with magic?  Should there not have been an explosion when you touched my face?”

Bernice looked surprised. “That is a good point.  I do not know myself where the line is, but I do know we were warned not to go anywhere near runes and bonecharms, or have anything to do with them.”

Emily sighed, feeling rising irritation with the direction the whole meeting with the Sisters had taken.  “In any case, Dunwall was not leveled, and Greta is not in any danger of making cursed runes again so the point is moot.  Now, the new Overseer will ask about how you defeated the witches, yes?”

The two women nodded, looking somewhat abashed at her sharp tone.

“Is your chapel planning on answering him truthfully?”

Bernice licked her lips nervously, and nodded. “We were sent here to get your backing in case he decided he wanted our chapel to be… to be purged.”

Emily wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose, but resolved to maintain at least some of her façade of royal detachment.  It would have been nice if they thought to introduce that fact early on.

“I do not have the power to openly defy the Abbey if you are all branded heretics,” Emily stated, sorrow bleeding into her words. “Especially since I have associated heavily with your chapel, I will be under suspicion as well.”

Greta nodded with disappointed understanding, but Bernice looked indignant.

“So that’s it? You’ll leave us to be burned?” she cried.

Emily found herself looking up at the Outsider.  “Is there any way I can help them?” she asked.

“Protecting heretics will not be a good look for you, Empress,” he replied smoothly.

“Well neither is bedding the Outsider, but that is where we are right now, isn’t it?” snarled Bernice.

“Bernice!” hissed Greta, horrified.

Emily’s mouth fell open.  She honestly had nothing to say that would permanently refute those words.  Technically she was not bedding the Outsider, but that was not because she had no intent to bed him.  She felt his hand take hers, and she squeezed it gratefully.

“Just ask Elanor to protect you,” the Outsider said.

The Sisters heads jerked up to look at him, flabbergasted expressions on their faces.

“Elanor is a being of goodwill,” he continued, his voice even. “I doubt she would leave you to such terrible fates if she knew what you were facing.  Just ask her, and she will help.”

Greta slapped her forehead. “We are such fucking morons,” she groaned.  “It is such an obvious answer to our problems.”

“Yes,” the Outsider said smugly. “It is.”  

Emily rolled her eyes.

Bernice also had her head in her hands.  “All we have to prove is that Elanor is the antithesis to void magic… it’s so easy…”

Emily could not help but smile as she watched the two Sisters kick themselves. “Thank you for informing me about the appointment of Pavel Chopin.  Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“I believe we are all set, Empress,” Greta replied politely with an embarrassed cough. Bernice nodded in agreement.

“Empress, I also promise to keep your secret,” she promised, her face pointed at the Outsider. “You seem to have a firm enough grip on his cock that he won’t cause trouble.”

Emily sputtered, and would have been deeply offended if it was not for the Sister’s sincerity.  The Outsider’s face was carefully blank. 

“Why on earth would you say that?!” cried Greta, horrified. 

“My great-auntie would say that to my uncle’s gal whenever she approved of them,” Bernice replied, sounding confused.   “It’s a nice thing to say.”

“That is not a nice thing to say, especially to the Empress!” Greta scolded, before turning to Emily. “I am so sorry that was said.  Bernice does mean that she will not say anything about the Outsider being here.”

Bernice nodded solemnly “I have absolute faith you will keep him from causing harm to the Empire.”

Emily coughed awkwardly and stood.  The two Sisters stood as well, looking at her expectantly.

“Thank you for your visit,” she dismissed.  Greta and Bernice bowed and left the room, the two whispering feverishly. 

Emily turned to the Outsider and took both of his hands, an apologetic smile on her face.

“I am so sorry that you had to hear that,” she said.  He smiled warmly at her, and gently squeezed her hands.

“I have heard worse,” he replied.

The little bird on her shoulder peeped: “What the fuck!”

Emily could not help but laugh at the well-timed interjection.  The Outsider also chuckled at the little bird.

“Thank you very much for this little sweetheart,” she reached up to gently pet the bird, and it leaning into her touch.  “Does it have a name?”

The Outsider looked thoughtful. “If I was to name her, I would call her Eulalia.”

“Eulalia!” the bird whistled.  Emily laughed again.

“Eulalia it is.”


	20. Chapter 19: Prayers and Dreams

##  Chapter 19: Prayers and Dreams

The criminal underbelly of Dunwall was endlessly fascinating to the Outsider.  The Hatters had survived a remarkably long time, as had the Dead Eels. The Roaring Boys roared in then roared right out.  The Bottle Street Gang merged with the Parliament Street Cutters into the Rateaters.  So many men, women, and people in-between were skirting the law.  So many of them were praying to him for favor and guidance. 

So the Outsider made it a hobby when he could not sleep to wander from shrine to shrine, scratching out notes in his cradle-tongue, knowing nobody- not even the most Void-touched- could understand it.   He would sit in front of the better-made ones and listen to the Void.  It felt closer in those places, but reaching out to it still hurt just as badly as it did a month and a half ago.  No matter, the Void eagerly reached back.

The Void was what it always was, yet there was another facet to it.  It reached out to him with the eagerness of a mother assessing a child for bruises after a tumble.  After being satisfied that he was whole and unharmed, it crooned and sang its normal song.  It whispered of magic, how a witch in the eastern Pandyssian Isles set the dead upon her enemies, a youth he marked years ago off in the unknown corner of the world died in his bed an old man- satisfied with an uneventful life.  The Void did not miss him; it was with him always, and content the way things were. 

It refused to answer questions about the Stars, hissing its wishes again to him: Observe the world mortal, and perhaps meddle when he sees fit.  Ignore what lay beyond them.  Protect the integrity of the Void.   So, he stopped asking.  

The shrine he was at tonight atop a rickety old building overlooking Kaldwin’s Bridge, with offerings of a wormy apple and a couple slices of hard bread next to an old bonecharm that prevented hair loss.  He supposed he should find it paltry, but instead it had a sort of charm to it.  The Outsider leaned against the chimney, dark with soot and belching smoke.   He closed his eyes, vague memories of leaning against potter’s kilns to keep warm in the winter flickering across his mind, alongside the images of thousands of others doing the same thing, both right now and in the distant past.  He was rudely jolted from his thoughts when something stiff and fuzzy hit him in the face.

“Hey you!” spat what sounded like a boy in the mist of puberty.  “Bread thief!”

The Outsider slowly opened his eyes, and confirmed that he was, indeed, hit in the face with a dead rat.  He turned to see an indignant pimply mess of a youth wearing a dirty dress.

“Bread thief?” The Outsider replied, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah!” snarled the kid, marching up to him and getting in his face. “Stop stealing the Outsider’s bread!”

The Outsider started laughing. “One cannot steal something that is given to them.”

The kid glared at him. “What the Void do you mean?

He stood up and walked over to the shrine.  “Did you make this?”

“… What’s it to you?” the kid said warily.

The Outsider picked up a piece of bread, and tried biting into it like he had seen Emily do.  It was not as satisfying, but his mouth was clear as the little urchin turned red with rage and ran at him.  He snapped his fingers and the kid froze in place.  The Outsider strolled over and looked the child in the eyes.

“You are not a bright one, are you?”  With a twitch of his fingers, the kid was free.  He dropped to his knees and kissed the Outsider’s shoes. 

“I knew it! I knew you would answer my prayers!” his voice cracked multiple times as tears flowed down his face. 

The Outsider took a step back, disconcerted. “Look… Michelle.”  The boy gasped as fresh wave of tears streamed down. “I am not answering your prayers. I am here because this shrine happened to charm me the other night.”

“But you can answer them!” Michelle gasped, their dark eyes alight with happiness. “You can answer my prayers!”

The Outsider sighed.  He knew what the child wanted, and he knew the magic necessary to fulfill that desire. The harm in pointing them in the right direction was minimal. 

“Can you read?” he asked.  The child nodded.  The Outsider took out his pencil and notebook and jotted down the complicated bonecharm recipe. He tore it out and handed it to the child.

“It will make sense at some point,” he said to the kid, who looked at the Outsider like he had given them the world.  Uncomfortable, he immediately left the shrine, mentally noting never to visit it again.  Michelle will be alright, people will stop teasing her about her dress, and she will get by, with or without her bonecharm. 

The Outsider returned to the safe room, only to find that Emily had taken up residence in his cot.  Her long black hair was a mess, and she was curled up under the plain blankets, her face buried into the pillow.  He walked over and crouched beside the cot, reaching out to gently touch her shoulder. 

Emily turned her head, her eyes half-open behind a curtain of hair.  She slowly sat up and pushed her hair out of her face.

“Sorry for commandeering your bed,” she apologized sleepily. 

“It is alright,” he replied gently. “I am rarely in it anyway so you are welcome to it.”

Emily smiled and opened her arms. “Come here.”

The Outsider took off his shoes and climbed onto the cot.  Emily embraced him and snuggled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder.  He placed his arms around her; she seemed to want to talk.

“Where did you go?” she murmured.

“I was at a shrine,” he replied, his hand reaching up and stroking her hair. “There was a child there who accused me of stealing bread from it.  Threw a dead rat at me and everything.”

Emily chuckled. “What did you do with the poor child?”

“Their prayer was simple enough, so I pointed them in the right direction,” the Outsider noticed that he was twirling a bit of Emily’s hair around his fingers, and was not sure if he should stop. He could feel Emily smile into his shoulder, and they sat in the dark silence for a while.

“I dreamt I was back in the rat plague,” Emily whispered.  “And Corvo never came for me.”

That explained why she was in the safe room, curled up on the snug cot. 

“Dreams sometimes show us what could have been,” he said soothingly. “Sometimes they take old traumas and reshape them; sometimes they expose fears we did not know we had.”

She sighed and shifted, pressing more into his side.  “Do you dream, Outsider?”

He hummed, and leaned back against the wall, bringing Emily with him. She shifted again, leaning more upon his chest. 

“In the Void I did not sleep, so I did not dream. Here, I dream of the Void.”

“Is it a comfort?” she looked up at him, her expression both curious and sad.  The Outsider gave Emily a small smile and a brief squeeze.

“I like seeing the whales,” he admitted.  She laughed, which was then followed by a long yawn.   The Outsider realized he was keeping Emily awake and sat up, intending to let her go back to sleep. She seemed to predict what he was thinking though, and held onto him, her face buried in his chest.

“Stay,” her request was muffled by his jacket, but he could see the tips of her ears turn pink.  The Outsider was overwhelmed with affection for her, and kissed the top of her head.

“I will,” he replied. “But only if you are comfortable with me removing some of my clothes.”

He felt Emily nod her head against his chest, and she loosened her embrace, allowing him to remove his jacket and shirt and toss them on the ground.  She sat up, her pajama shirt hanging loosely on her frame, the blankets still tangled around her pajama-clad legs.

“You can remove you pants too, if it is more comfortable for you,” she added, her gaze direct and unabashed.

He thought about it for a moment, and removed his pants too, leaving just his undergarments on.  Emily smiled at him and lay down by the wall, bringing the blankets up with her left hand and opening her arms.  He smiled back and joined her.  Emily embraced him, wrapping them both in blankets, and kissed him on the lips.

“Goodnight,” she murmured with affection, laying her head on the pillow.

“Goodnight,” the Outsider returned with a whisper and a kiss.  He lay his head down, closed his eyes, and dreamed of whales.


	21. Chapter 21

##  Chapter 20: Preparation

Emily woke up smelling ambergris. That made sense because her face was currently buried in the Outsider’s chest. His arms were wrapped around her; her right hand was grasping his upper left arm.  Their legs were intertwined, and from the way he was breathing, Emily guessed the Outsider was still asleep.  With care she slowly pulled away, trying not to disturb him; she wanted to see what he looked like when asleep.  

His pale face was relaxed, his mouth slightly open.  The dark circles under his eyes were more noticeable when his deep black eyes were closed.  Emily leaned on her elbow, propping her head up as she drank him in.  The patterns on his body that she first noticed when he was freed from those strange chains stood out like elegant, moon-pale scars, curling up his arms from his palm up to his shoulders.  She traced one on his right arm, up from the hand resting at her waist all the way up to the straps of his undershirt.

The Outsider was quite a beautiful man. 

She was jolted out of her reverie by a faint but unmistakable banging at the safe room door.  The Outsider’s eyes opened slowly like a contented cat, and he smiled at her.

“It seems your maid is looking for you Emily,” he said, his voice husky with sleep. Emily groaned and flopped down, provoking a laugh from her bedmate.

“As nice as it would be to stay here, I would rather not have poor Betty summon the Tower Guard to comb the grounds in search of you.” He crept towards her and kissed her on the neck.  A giggle escaped from her, and together they sat up.

“Very well then,” she said primly. “You better show up for breakfast.”

He smiled and kissed her again. Emily returned the kiss, and climbed out of bed. The banging on the door continued as she ran up the stairs, and finally opened the door with her ring.

 The look of utter relief on Betty’s face made Emily feel somewhat badly for frightening the poor thing.

“Praise be, you are safe!” she cried. Emily gave her a sheepish smile and closed the door behind her. 

“I am sorry for making you worry,” she apologized.  The maid waved it off.

“I am glad I thought of the safe room, or I was going to call the guard to look for you!  Now, I’ve laid out your daily outfit, but you will need to change into something a little more high-fashion for tonight’s ball.”

Emily froze for a second. “Fuck,” she mentally cursed.  She had forgotten all about the ball the Boyles were hosting for Dunwall’s notables.   Betty did not seem to notice her momentary personal crisis, and kept on talking.

“I have personally selected three outfits that you were fitted for before the whole Delilah mess,” she gestured to the aforementioned trio, displayed on tailor’s dummies. “You can inform me of your choice when I come back up with your breakfast.”

Emily offered Betty a brief smile before she headed to the bathroom to prep herself and then get dressed.  She stared at the outfits- the first was a red and black affair with high-waisted pants and a short four-buttoned waistcoat.  The second was green and crème, with a high collar and sleeves that ended at her elbow.  The last… the last was different.

 “Have you decided yet Empress?” Betty’s return with breakfast startled her out of her thoughts.

“Not yet,” Emily replied apologetically.  “Would it be possible for me to tell you after breakfast?”

The maid smiled as she placed the cart laden with platters and teapots by her breakfast table and bowed. “Take as much time as you need.  Enjoy breakfast!”

Betty left, and Emily and went about setting the table.  The Outsider-dressed in his normal outfit- appeared a moment later, holding a beeping Eulalia in his hands.

“She was looking for you,” his tone was somewhat scolding. 

Emily put down a teacup and immediately reached out to take the fluffy… red Eulalia from his hands.  Eulalia eagerly jumped into hers.

“What the fuck!” the bird cheeped, somehow looking annoyed.

“I am sorry Eulalia,” she apologized.  The bird beeped, and the color of her feathers shifted from sparkling red to the blue Emily saw all yesterday.   She took wing and landed on the breakfast table, looking at her expectantly.  Emily took an extra tea plate, put an assortment of berries and cereals on it, and placed it before Eulalia.

“I see Betty already has you thinking about tonight’s event,” The Outsider said, looking at the three outfits.

“A wise decision, considering I had forgotten all about it,” Emily replied as she took a seat and served herself some tea.   The Outsider sat down and took the bowl of oatmeal for himself; somehow, it was the only food she had seen him eat with any dignity. 

“Will you come?” she asked idly as she helped herself to some toast.

He blinked. “Considering I have not been invited, I do not think so.”

“You could come as one of my Royal Protectors,” she proposed.

The Outsider choked, and quickly cleared his throat with a thump to his chest. She watched him, concerned.

“Emily,” he looked half amused, and half like he just ate bloodflies. “The last time I got into a fight I was knocked out seconds after it started.  I cannot fight, and nobody would ever believe you if you said I could.”

She waved him off. “You are able to project an intimidating aura, which is half a guard’s job.”

He raised an eyebrow. “As myself, yes.  As Owen, no.”  He returned to eating his oatmeal.

Emily pouted for a bit as she ate her toast.  Eulalia was happily pecking at her breakfast. 

“It sounds as if you do not want to go,” Emily said playfully. 

The Outsider gave her an equally playful smile. “I would be happy to go if it would not spark so much gossip and questions you do not have an answer to.”

She sipped her tea, and then affected an expression of offense. “Why Lady Boyle, of course he is my lover!  What does he do?  He offers me advice and gives me pretty birds.”

The Outsider tried to hide his smile behind his hand.  “As delightful as it would be to scandalize the aristocracy and Abbey, it would be best not to do so.”

Emily leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “As much as I want to reject your advice and throw caution to the wind, it would be best if I wait at least a few months more to rock the boat.  It’s such a pity; I was hoping to hear your opinions on the guests.”

“I can share them after you tell me all about the party when you return,” he offered a small smile before a serious look took over his face. “Pavel Chopin is expected to attend, and I do not want to be in the same building as him.”

That snapped Emily out of her childish displeasure. She slowly leaned forward, worried. “He sounds dangerous,” she said hesitantly.

“Chopin is skilled at combating the magic of the Void,” the Outsider said, helping himself to a plantain.  “He has made a music box that is capable of interrupting rituals and magics, and has a habit of playing it to himself often. If he starts playing it, brace yourself as you might feel pain.  Chopin is little zealous, but not an unreasonable man.”

Emily nodded, and tried not to wince as he ate the plantain- peel and all.  Eulalia finished her breakfast and flew over to the trio of outfits, perching on the first one and warbling. An idea entered Emily’s head.

“If you cannot be around to make the ball more enjoyable, perhaps you can help me choose an outfit for the ball,” she proposed.

The Outsider raised an eyebrow, intrigued.  “I would have to see them on you first.”

Emily smiled, and went to relieve the first mannequin of its clothes.

***

The Oracular Order of Dunwall held their breath as High Overseer Pavel Chopin was introduced to Elanor, the embodiment of a star, a Keeper of Time and Singer of the Ancient Music.  Gathered in their cloister, Greta found herself holding hands with Bernice and Marzia, the latter shaking with fright, tears falling down her face. 

High Overseer Chopin’s tanned face was a mask of polite interest, his eyes chips of ice as he regarded Elanor.  Elanor was explaining what she was, giving the same talk about the Void and Energy she had given them back in the month of Nets. 

“… I am the representative of the light magic, the last breath of the Energy that birthed all.”

She finished with a brilliant smile.  The High Overseer did not look impressed or swayed.  Instead he took a small music box out of his pocket and began to play it.

Greta recognized the strange grinding noises, so prevalent during the Rat Plague fifteen years ago.  It was hard to forget the reverberating sounds, and instead of bringing her ease as it once did it instead deepened the already bottomless pit of anxiety.  She tightened her grip on her friends’ hands, trying to will some calm back into her bones.

Elanor regarded the box for a couple moments, listening to the melody.  And then, she began to sing.  It was high, sweet, and harmonious with the hollow grinding of the music box.  It was so beautiful that the whole room gasped upon hearing the first note.  Greta felt the breath leave her lungs, and tears fall down her face.  High Overseer Chopin faltered in playing the box, his jaw slack and cheeks wet.  Elanor gently took the box and continued to play. She sang a few more bars of that song of unspeakable beauty before stopping, and handing the instrument back to the stunned High Overseer.

“Your music box is very well made!” she complimented. “Though if I understand human hearing correctly, I can imagine that it sounds rather frightful.”

Chopin pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his cheeks.  “Nothing created of the Void would respond so purely to the music,” he declared.  “I thank you for coming to my Sisters and blessing them.”

Elanor curtsied. “I could no longer stand aside and watch people suffer,” she said humbly, her head lowered.

“Please stand,” he offered.  Elanor rose, a calm look on her dark face.

“I have been invited to attend a party this evening, hosted by the great Lady Boyle.  I would like to invite you to accompany me to it,” High Overseer Chopin continued. “You may also choose two Sisters to join us.”

Greta let out a sigh of relief.  She and her Sisters were safe; none will be burned as heretics.  Things had worked out better than expected.

“Sister Greta Manderly, Sister Marzia Cabrini,” Elanor’s voice rang out across the cloister. “I would be honored if you could join us.”

She and Marzia stood, and replied with their assent.  It was a simple ball, what could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is enjoying this story so far! The next chapter might be a week late as I am graduating next weekend and will be very very busy. Your support and enjoyment mean a lot to me <3


	22. Chapter 21: Lady Boyle’s Ball

##  Chapter 21: Lady Boyle’s Ball

Corvo held his daughter’s hand as she exited the railcar.  Eulalia chirped on her shoulder, a brilliant living gem.  Emily was clothed in a garment that had not been seen in the fashions of the Isles for the last fifty years- a skirt of thick blue cloth that reached her ankles with a tall waist with three wide bands fastened with buttons of gold.   She moved in it with remarkable grace, and Corvo was forcibly reminded of Jessamine. 

“Your mother would be proud of you,” he murmured to Emily.   She smiled briefly at him before returning her attention to the grand house before them.

“Let us see how the night goes,” she said, heading off to the door of the Boyle mansion.

They entered and were greeted merrily by Esma Boyle, a glass of wine held in her manicured hand.

“Empress Emily!” she cried, dipping into a bow before giving her a look over. “You outfit is stunning!”

Emily smiled demurely. “The Royal Tailor wanted to try something different.  It is surprisingly comfortable.”

Esma took her arm, a twinkle in her eye. “Well, it certainly looks very fine!  Come now, myself and our guests would like to welcome you back and properly thank you for getting rid of Delilah.”

Corvo followed the two women as Emily was pulled by Esma into the ballroom, the older women chatting about the different guests.

“…the new High Overseer brought a strange woman and two Oracular Sisters, very strange indeed!”

They entered the ballroom, catching the attention off everyone in it.  There was a sea of familiar noble faces; to Corvo’s surprise, Greta and Elanor were among the familiar faces.  They were standing next to an olive-skinned Sister and an unfamiliar Overseer with brown hair, tanned skin, and eyes like chips of ice.  Ah, that must be Pavel Chopin, the new High Overseer.  

The chatter in the room quieted as Esma lead Emily to an ornately carved chair, and bade her to sit.   She took the seat, somewhat confused.  Corvo stood at her side, noting that everyone present had a glass.  Esma took a couple steps back, and then held her glass aloft.

“To Empress Emily,” she toasted. “For serving her people well! Long may she reign!”

“Long may she reign!” the toast echoed throughout the room. 

Emily accepted their words with dignity and grace, but Corvo could tell she was caught off guard by such praise. 

“Now that the guest of honor is here, I bid you all to make merry!” Esme declared. 

There were multiple cheers, and the ballroom broke out in noise again.  A well-dressed servant came over to them, bearing a platter of wines.  Emily took one while Corvo declined.

“I take it that the High Overseer does not know about Elanor?” he murmured to Emily, who chose to remain seated.

“Actually, I am sure he is fully aware of what Elanor is,” she replied with a sip.  “The Sisters came to me seeking my protection if Chopin decided to burn them; Owen told them they should seek Elanor’s protection.”

Corvo frowned. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday, just after I got Eulalia,” Emily stroked the little bird, which looked content on her shoulder. 

Corvo tried to contain his discontent.  The Outsider always seemed to put him on his back foot, particularly now that he decided to favor Emily and occupy as much of her time as possible.  Frankly he was surprised the Void deity was not with them, whispering secrets about the guests in their ears.

“Empress!”

Corvo turned to see Anton Sokolov approaching him, a smile on his face.  Emily smiled back.

“Sokolov! It is good to see you again.  I thought you were returning to Tyvia.”

The old man offered an almost sheepish smile. “I decided to stick around Dunwall for a short while before I say my final goodbye.” 

“Goodbye!” Eulalia warbled.  Sokolov noticed the bird and then suddenly stared at it harder.

“Is that a Pandyssian Parrot on your shoulder?” he asked, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.

“Why, yes,” Emily replied, a little surprised. “I suppose you saw a lot of them on your expedition to the great continent.”

“Actually, no,” Sokolov replied, peering closely at Eulalia. “I saw them for trade at one of the rare markets we encountered, and the merchant recommended them as pets.  It was a great regret of mine that I did not obtain one then, so I requested one to be brought to me for a handsome price.  I was asked to pick it up yesterday, but when I arrived it was found that it had mysteriously disappeared.”

“And there is no way that there could be another Pandyssian Parrot for sale?” Emily asked, her voice both hopeful and sheepish.

Sokolov shook his head. “I never published that part of my expedition report- some would have found the marketplace to be upsetting, so only that bird is known to me and the natives of Pandyssia. How did you get it?”

Corvo suddenly knew how Emily got that parrot- the Outsider had outright stolen it. He bet that the little shit had deliberately not mentioned how he got it, and Emily was too enchanted by the bird to ask. Poor Sokolov!  The Outsider seemed to delight in picking on him.

“I got Eulalia as a gift yesterday,” Emily replied sheepishly.  “I am terribly sorry that I took her from you!”

Sokolov gave her a grandfatherly smile. “It is alright, she seems to have taken to you very nicely.”

“Eulalia!” the little bird flew over to Sokolov and perched on his arm.  The famed inventor gently pat the little blue bird and she twittered happily before darting back to Emily.

“Perhaps I could get myself a nice wolfhound,” he said with a laugh.  He turned to Corvo and smiled. “Give Megan Foster my best.”

Sokolov wandered away.  Emily stared out into the middle distance, looking rather upset.

“I might to have to have a little talk with someone,” she murmured, tapping her finger on the wood of the armrest. 

Corvo smiled. He could not agree more.

***

Wandering around riverbanks was a mistake.  Now that the charming shrine was off-limits, the Outsider decided to visit one close to the Distillery District.  With confidence born of four thousand years of invulnerability, he decided it would not be a problem to wander around the neighborhood first before dropping in.  After all, he was the Outsider; who would dare harm him?

Well, apparently a group of particularly sadistic and bloodthirsty Rateaters would.

He came to only find he was chained by his wrists and hanging just so that he had to stand on his toes to keep the manacles from cutting into his hands.  The room was dark if not for a narrow sliver of yellow light coming from a barred window in the door.  His jacket and shirt were missing.

“You stupid, stupid person!” he spat at himself.  The back of his head throbbed, a parting gift of the pipe that knocked him out.  If only he actually thought to look at his surroundings, to act like the street kid he used to be rather the god he was now. 

The Outsider dissolved, free of the manacles.  He rubbed his wrists, his anger growing.  He had told Emily he was not a fighter, but so rarely did his Marked use their gifts for anything but fighting.  He had the same abilities, and more. The Outsider was itching for a fight.

It did not take much to find the group who had captured him- they were huddled in a circle next to the shrine he was planning on visiting when he was so rudely captured.  He watched them from the shadows as they sharpened flaying knives, huddled around a lamp. A pile of half-finished bonecharms rested at the shrine. The Outsider walked over and picked one up, attempting to discern its eventual purpose.  It pulsed and hummed in his grasp, and the Void murmured.

“Blink,” the word fell softly from his lips, drawing the attention of the Rateaters. 

“Fuck, the witch escaped!” cried one.  Without hesitation, another pulled out a pistol and shot at him.

The Outsider barely registered the burning sting as the bullet struck his ribs.  With great relish he bent that man’s hand and unloaded the pistol into that scarred face.  One lunged at him, the blade of his knife gleaming in the purple light.  The Outsider dodged, thrusting his hand forward to strike the Rateater in chest.  His palm struck the hard flesh, and rocky spires from the Void burst out of the man’s back.  There was another sting in his upper thigh, the remaining Rateaters were screaming for backup, cursing at him.  The Outsider smirked.  The Void hummed and crooned loudly in his ears; practically screaming encouragement.

“I heard you like eating rats,” he sneered before summoning a whole swarm of them.  The gang members screamed as the rats tore into them.  Unfortunately he was unable to bask in his revenge because a furious women Blinked in right next to him and landed a punch on his face.

His vision swam a brief moment and blood filled his mouth.  The women reached out, intending to put him in a chokehold.  With speed he did not know he had he grabbed the woman by the jaw and slammed his fist into her chest, producing more spires that went through her body.

“Get him away from the shrine!” screamed another voice.

The Void hissed at him.  He had his revenge, he was free.  It was time to leave.

Just at that moment four Rateaters Blinked into existence before him and seized him. The Outsider tried to dissolve out of their grasp, but before he could succeed the world shifted and next thing he knew they were in a dim, metal-walled room.  

Immediately he felt drained- there were cuts all over his body, the bullet wounds continuously leaked blood.   The Outsider knew they were on a boat, and all he wanted to do was get back to the safe room and lick his wounds.  The Rateaters dropped him, their faces twisted with a mixture of anger and smug pride. 

“You thought you could escape us you witch!” one spat, kicking him in the ribs.

“I am not a witch,” he hissed, pouring his magic throughout the boat.  Just thirteen nautical miles out was a pod of whales that would happily smash this boat to bits.   He could feel the Void inside him licking at his bones, coloring his frame.   One of the Rateaters pissed himself in fear.

The Outsider dissolved them all, and threw themselves out towards the whales.  But as he did so, an overwhelming, painful force started pulling at him.  Instead of landing out in the open ocean, the ship and its occupants were tugged to the estate district.

***

Greta thought things were going well.  The food was amazing, the dancing was a delight, the conversations remained light, and Elanor charmed everyone who approached her.  She finally was able to approach Emily just after the meal, with Marzia tagging along.

“Empress, you look lovely!” she greeted.  Emily smiled widely at her.

“Greta, it is a pleasure to see you here!  Who is your Sister?”

Marzia stared at Emily with wide eyes, her shyness suddenly overtaking her.  Greta gently pushed her forward.

“This is Marzia Cabrini,” she introduced. “Marzia, this is Empress Emily Kaldwin.”

Marzia curtseyed deeply, her eyes adverted down. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Empress!” she squeaked.

Emily smiled affectionately, and the little blue bird on her shoulder warbled. But before they could start chatting, a little bell rang, calling for their attention.

Esme stood at the other side of the room next to High Overseer Chopin and Elanor, holding aloft the little bell.    She smiled upon seeing she had got their attention.

“Elanor here would like to perform a song for our pleasure,” she announced. “and I have heard she has _quite_ the voice!”

Elanor beamed and bowed. The High Overseer took the music box from his pocket.  Out of the corner of her eye Greta saw Emily tense and hide her left hand in the folds of skirt.  A flicker of concern ignited within her, but she brushed it away.

The music box started to play, and Elanor started to sing.  Once again the sheer beauty of the song stole the air from Greta’s lungs; everyone looked quite taken with the song, including Emily.   She felt calm again, at peace with the beauty of the music. 

Then Elanor hit a note and Greta felt the air vibrate as if someone had plucked a taut string.  She looked around, locking eyes with Mariza first, then Emily.  Worry flickered on their faces, but everyone else was unconcerned.  Were they the only ones that noticed? 

The air vibrated again, and Greta felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.  She looked at Elanor and saw she too was worried, but continued singing anyway. 

The room suddenly filled with a brilliant light, followed moments later by a loud crash.  Greta closed her eyes against the bright flash, jumping in surprise at the sound of metal hitting stone and wood splintering.  When the light died down, Greta was surprised to see Elanor, the High Overseer, and Esma standing next to her.

“That,” Elanor said, breaking the tense silence. “Is not supposed to be there.”

Right where the trio used to be standing, protruding from the wall, was a beaten-up riverboat. 


	23. Chapter 23

##  Chapter 22: Boat in the Wall

“Everyone stay where you are!” cried the High Overseer, his tone commanding.  Elanor continued to stare at the boat.

“Greta, Emily, Corvo, come with me,” she said, her voice quiet and grim. “Mariza, follow us, and wait outside the boat.”

Greta shared a fearful look with Emily.  What on earth was going on?

Elanor marched forward across the polished stone floor, now sprinkled with smashed plaster and wooden splinters.  Greta followed her long stride, just behind Emily and the Royal Protector.  Marzia clung to her, her arms wrapped around her right one.  They were almost at the boat when a bloodcurdling scream issued from inside the ship.

Elanor stopped dead in her tracks, so fast that Emily nearly ran into her.  The whole group came to a halt behind her.

“Can you see what is happening?” asked Corvo.  Elanor did not respond, only stared warily at the metal bow

“There are five bodies,” whispered Emily. “One is running out, up to here.”

Immediately Greta shifted herself into a defensive stance, ready to confront whatever was coming to attack them.

The screaming got louder as a man appeared on the deck of the boat, running at full speed.  He did not seem to register where he was.  He jumped off the bow, shrieking like a frightened madman.  Midair, Greta saw his neck twist, his head suddenly turning sideways.  A sickening crack echoed through the air as the man’s neck broke, and he plummeted to the ground just before them with a thud.  Marzia gasped, and tightened her grip on Greta’s arm.

Elanor seemed to snap out of it.  She walked around the corpse up to the side of the boat.  With a wave of her hand a series of steps made of light appeared, and she boarded the boat.  Emily followed close behind, and Corvo behind her.  Greta gulped, and followed them.  Marzia stayed at the foot of the stairs as she was told, trembling like a leaf.  The little bird flew off Emily’s shoulder and perched on Marzia’s, chirping nervously.

The deck was empty, with the back of the boat stretching out into the Boyle’s garden.  Elanor turned to Emily, a somewhat helpless look on her face. 

“Where are the rest of the people?”

“In the cargo hold,” Emily answered easily, a somewhat strained look on her face. “What happened?"

Elanor shrugged. “First we have to figure out if this was the doing of a witch, a ritual, or the Outsider.  Considering how the Outsider does not like to make trouble, I doubt it was him.”

The disbelieving look on Corvo’s face at those words nearly made Greta laugh.  She swallowed her mirth easily, though, as she followed the other three down into the ship.   

The cargo hold was dark and reeked of blood.  Elanor held up her hand and produced a ball of light, brightening the space.  Greta could not help but automatically recoil, nearly tripping over the stairs.  Emily let out a horrified gasp and covered her mouth with her hand.  The walls were splattered with blood and gore, an eyeless head staring at them, its chest blown up like it swallowed a mine.  Another corpse laid against a crate, its face contorted into an expression of terror.   The final corpse was spread-eagle on the ground, its throat torn out.  A bloody knife lay on the ground a few feet from it.  And on the far wall, lying as a mess of blood and bruises was the Outsider.   

Emily ran right to him, unconcerned with dirtying her lovely outfit. Corvo followed her close behind. 

“Greta, get Marzia,” Elanor whispered. 

Greta could only nod before she all but fled up the stairs. 

***

Emily was absolutely horrified to find the Outsider in that dim metal hold.  She practically threw herself down next to him, unsure what to do.  His eyes were closed, blood was splattered on his face and dripped from his mouth down his chin.  A nasty gash on his upper arm leaked blood, and a bullet wound on his chest was slowly oozing red.  She placed her hand on his chest, and to her relief she could feel his heart beat.  Corvo crouched down on the opposite side and removed a long rag.

“We should cover his eyes and remove him from here,” he said as he wrapped the rag around the Outsider’s head.  Emily nodded, not trusting herself to say anything that would not develop into a scream.   Corvo picked him up, heedless of all the blood.  His head lolled back, and Emily could not stop herself from reaching out to cradle it.  She could feel a patch of dried blood there, and she was barely able to keep back a noise of distress.

Elanor waited for them to bring him up the stairs, following them up once they reached the deck.  Greta and her Sister Marzia were waiting for them there, as was the High Overseer.  Upon seeing him she felt a twinge of fear for the Outsider.  

“Elanor,” Chopin walked right past them and stood attentively in front of the star.  “What happened?”

“I believe that my singing somehow interrupted a transportation ritual,” she replied confidently. “This man was the only survivor.”

Chopin suddenly turned his piercing eyes to the Outsider, and Emily had to fight the urge to hide him from Chopin’s view.

“Those patterns,” the High Overseer murmured with shock. “I think we interrupted something far more serious.”

“Mr. Attano!” Marzia’s voice sounded almost unrecognizable in its commanding confidence. “Please lay him here.”

The sisters had somehow found a cot and dragged it out, elevating it with a bunch of crates.  Corvo carried him over and laid the Outsider down.  Emily followed them over, uncertain with what to do. 

“Are we in danger?” Elanor asked Chopin just as quietly.  

“No,” Chopin’s response was clipped. “If anything, we just saved that man’s life.”

“Alright, so we should tell people that things are alright?”

Emily had forgotten about the rest of the party in the aftermath of the boat’s appearance.  The room had been emptied, though Esma and Solokov remained.  Her attention was pulled away from the others when Greta tapped her shoulder, holding up a bucket of warm water with a towel draped over the edge. 

“We need to wipe some of the blood away,” she said. 

Emily took the towel and bucket, not questioning when Greta had got the two, and started to gently wipe the blood off the Outsider’s torso.  Marzia was already cleaning his left arm, placing ointment on the myriad of small cuts.  It did not take long to stain the water red, and his wounds still oozed blood.  Even as she cleaned his face he did not stir.

“I’m rather glad this fellow is passed out,” Marzia admitted as she stitched a wound on his upper arm closed.  “It makes it easier to remove foreign objects and do stitches.”

Emily could not shake her unease, and restrained herself from stroking his hair.  Chopin wandered over, and to her surprise Solokov was there as well, Eulalia perched atop his head.  Elanor stood next to Corvo, her face blank. 

“You see those patterns?” Chopin said to Solokov, pointing at the pale lines and swirls on the Outsider’s chest. “Those indicate that the person is to be ritually sacrificed to the Void in exchange for power.  I found a mummified body in a cave near Pradym with the same markings, all trussed up and his throat cut wide open.”

 Solokov’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Do you think they were trying to contact the Outsider?”

“If they were, the ritual must have backfired on them,” Chopin folded his arms. “As you saw, that man died horribly, and Elanor assured me his companions fared no better.”

There was a sudden groan from the Outsider’s lips, brought about by Marzia prodding at the bullet wound on his chest.

“Easy now,” the Sister soothed. “We are here to help you.”

He slowly reached up to touch the makeshift blindfold, now spotted with blood. Emily placed a hand over his.

“It is best for you to keep that on right now,” she murmured.  He tilted his head, then turned it in her direction.

“Emily?” he sounded both relieved and taken aback.

Solokov, Chopin, and Marzia all suddenly focused on her.

“How do you know this man?” Solokov asked, befuddled.

“He helped me oust Delilah and end her coup,” Emily replied as confidently as possible. “He also was the one who took Eulalia from you and gave her to me.”

Chopin raised a thick eyebrow.  Solokov pointed to the bird that was now preening herself atop his head.

“This is a Pandyssian Parrot I ordered as a pet for myself and was, ah, _redirected_ to Empress Emily.  I am quite surprised that this young fellow knew about it.”

The Outsider slowly sat up, his back a muddled mess of bruises.  Mariza began wrapping bandages around his torso, to secure the pack she had atop his bullet wound.  His upper arm was wrapped up.

“In any case young man,” Chopin addressed. “You have been saved from a horrible fate.  Where were you when you got seized for the ritual?”

“I was seized at riverside of the Distillery District by Rateaters,” he spat the last word with a large amount of venom.  “I saw them crafting bonecharms, and they had a shrine to the Outsider.”

Chopin nodded, a determined look on his face.  Emily had the feeling that she would soon hear about Overseers locked in combat the Rateater gang. 

“Alright, you are all set!” Marzia finished fastening the bandages. “Try not to do anything that will put extra strain on your ribs and you should be ok.”

“Also try to not let yourself get kidnapped by crazy gang members,” added Greta.

“Oh if you think that is a problem we can escort him home,” Chopin offered.

Greta coughed, looking slightly sheepish. “Actually, he lives at Dunwall Tower.”

The High Overseer blinked, and then surprised Emily by smiling.  

“Ah, well that makes things better!”  he clapped his hands together.  “He should be well-protected from retribution there.”

There was the sound of heels clicking that drew everyone’s attention, revealed to be Esma running across the ballroom floor and up the stairs of the light to get to the deck.  She was carrying a simple white shirt in her well-manicured hands. 

“I thought you might appreciate having a shirt to replace the one I presume was taken from you,” she held it out to the Outsider.  Her eyes combed him up and down, lingering far too long on his bare chest.  Emily’s hands twitched.  She wanted to grab the shirt out of Esma’s hands and dismiss her. 

“Thank you Lady Boyle,” The Outsider said, taking the shirt and putting it on. “That was very kind of you.”

Esma just smiled then walked over to Emily, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“This new beau of yours is _much_ better than Wyman,” she crooned appreciatively. “If you tire of him, send him over to me.”

Emily could not stop herself from turning to stare at Emsa.  Was her regard really so obvious?

The older women just gave her a knowing look before addressing the rest of the group on the deck.

“Thank you very much for handling this.  Whoever caused this had excellent timing, as the ball was due to end about now anyway.  Thank you all for coming,” she turned to the Outsider. “and you are most certainly welcome to any gathering of mine that the Empress is welcome to.”

He blushed and looked a little taken aback. “Thank you Lady Boyle.” He said with a slight cough.

Corvo cleared his throat, and made a small gesture with his head.  It was time for them to depart. 

Greta gently tapped her shoulder. “I will be back around at midday.”

Emily nodded and gave her a grateful smile.  They would have much to talk about.

The Outsider stood up, wincing as he did.  His hand reached out for hers; she allowed him to take it and he squeezed hard. Eulalia warbled affectionately at Solokov and flitted over to sit on her shoulder. She followed Corvo off the boat and to the railcar, the Outsider trailing behind them


	24. Chapter 23: Breathe

##  Chapter 23: Breathe

Corvo watched the Outsider collapse against Emily in the railcar, his right leg stretched out and breathing heavily.

Emily gently removed the blindfold, caressing his face while doing so. “Did Marzia miss something?” she asked softly.

“I was also shot in the thigh,” he said tightly.  “The bullet is no longer there but it was not treated.”

Emily made a noise of sympathy.  Corvo sighed through his nose.

“Will you tell us what actually happened?” he asked tiredly. “Elanor said that her singing must have interrupted a transportation ritual, but I don’t buy it.  Neither does Chopin.”

The Outsider sighed, his black eyes staring off into the middle distance. “I was careless.  A group of Rateaters mistook me for a witch and jumped me.  They were making bonecharms that gave the wearer access to the ability to Blink, and that needs the freshly flayed skin of a witch.”

Corvo could not help but wince at the description. Emily also winced, and placed her head atop the Outsider’s in a form of embrace.

“I was angry and humiliated that I had been captured and wanted revenge,” he laughed bitterly. “I should have figured that I was not up to the task.”

“I am sure that you killed some of them,” Corvo replied, finding the words an awkward comfort.

“Oh I did,” a feral look crossed his face, his smile sharp and teeth still stained with blood. 

Corvo immediately knew how the four corpses on the boat died.  An untrained man often fought with bestial desperation, and it seemed that the Outsider was no different.

“So how did the boat end up in Lady Boyle’s wall?” Emily asked, her confusion almost childlike.

“The four dead you found all possessed one of the finished Blink bonecharms.” The Outsider reached into his pants pocket and tossed one over to Corvo.  He caught it, looking at the pale scrap of bone and thread.  “The reason I was even in the neighborhood was that there was an interesting shrine in the area, a shrine that the Rateaters had set up to make the bonecharms.  I killed at least five of the bastards there before those four Blinked in and removed me to the river boat.”

“Why did you not return to the safe room?” Emily frowned, staring at the railcar ceiling. “Was it not possible?”

 “I was not thinking clearly,” he admitted, his voice exhausted and embarrassed. “For some reason my mind thought taking the boat out to sea to be smashed by a pod of whales would be the best course of action.”

The look on Emily’s face was so funny to Corvo that he had to cover his mouth and pretend to cough.

“How are you still alive?” she whispered, astonished.

“Technically I died four thousand years ago,” he retorted with a small smile on his face.

She lifted her head and looked at him. “Next time I get invited to something, I am going to follow my gut and bring you along.”

He huffed. “I am not always such a fool.  Besides, you will likely have to explain me to society.”

Corvo saw Emily’s eyes gleam at the challenge. She sat up straight and plastered a smile on her face.

“Speaker Flaherty, this is Owen.  I found him on a whaling ship in Serkonos and he helped me retake my throne. He is also my paramour, and if you have a problem with that you can bite my ass.”

Corvo found himself laughing alongside the Outsider, who was holding his stomach as he cackled.  Eulalia, who had remained quiet so far into the ride, began mimicking the laugh, sounding like a crow.  That just caused Emily to laugh too, and the three of them spent rest of the brief ride laughing.

In spite of the Outsider’s recent, foolish, actions, Corvo found himself warming up to the deity.

***

Billie rubbed her temples as the captain of the City Watch stood before her, a nervous look on his face.

“I’ll inform the Empress as soon as possible,” she said.  “You are free to go.”

He gave a short bow and left.  Billie leaned on desk and sighed.  Somebody had set fire to a Rateater’s den in the Distillery district, right around the same time a river boat was seen vanishing from its mooring. It was unlikely that such events were coincidental; she would gladly eat a rat if the Outsider did not happen to be involved at all.

She looked at the clock- it read midnight, just when the Empress was supposed to return from the Boyle’s. 

“I suppose it could not hurt to ask Emily if she knows what the Outsider was doing this evening,” she thought.  “I can leave off the news of the disappearing river boat until tomorrow.”

Billie got to her feet and left her small office to the entrance hall to hopefully meet Emily. 

She was in luck, Emily was just entering as Billie arrived, and the two women locked eyes. Emily gestured with her head, and Billie followed her as she was escorted by Corvo to her rooms.

“I am assuming the City Watch has reported interesting behavior to you tonight?” Emily muttered as they walked through the halls. 

Billie was speechless. They came to a stop outside her door, and Emily gave her a knowing look. 

“A river boat spontaneously appeared in the ballroom wall at the Boyles not long ago,” she opened the door. “Come in.”

Billie followed the Empress into her rooms, feeling somewhat awkward at being invited into such a private place.

“Tell me what you learned,” Emily unfastened the gauzy cape that draped from a collar and tossed it on her bed.  The little bird on her shoulder darted off to its cage.  

Billie stood by the door, tucking her hands behind her back as Emily ducked behind a screen.

“The City Watch reported that a known Rateater hideout was set on fire shortly after a river boat vanished from its moorings nearby.”

The Outsider suddenly materialized on the bed, wearing a pair of rather ugly pajamas. There was a large bruise on his jaw, and he was smiling like an angry cat.

“It was set on fire?” he interjected, excited.

“So you did cause all the chaos,” Billie did not know why she was surprised.  With each passing day the Outsider seemed less like an all knowing god and more like a particularly powerful teenager. She sighed. “I thought the whole deal with you was you could see the consequences of people’s actions.  Why have you done something so phenomenally stupid?”

The Outsider blinked. “The funny thing about getting hit in the back of the head by a metal pipe is that it does not improve your ability to think.”

Emily snorted from behind the screen. “Neither does getting angry and wanting revenge.”

He blushed and ducked his head. “Yes, that is also true.”

“Will you please just tell me what happened,” Billie pleaded, exasperated.  The Outsider looked up, his face serious and a touch sheepish.

“You may or may not be aware of this, but I have been displaced from the Void.  I hear it best at the shrines people have erected around the city, and feel bound to visit one every now and then.  I chose one to visit in Rateater territory, and I decided to wander around the riverfront for a bit.  I did not think anyone would bother me, especially because I went as myself, not Owen.”

Billie could understand that rational.  Gang members’ worship of the Outsider was an open secret, and it was unlikely one would even think to assault a god. 

“It was dark out, and I suppose I relied far too much on people being able to identify me.  In any case, I was surprised by a group of Rateaters who knocked me out.  They mistook me for a witch.”

“Wait,” she held up a hand.  The Outsider stopped talking and regarded her patiently. “You can get hurt?”

“I have a physical body now, so yes,” he replied. “As for me being killed, I honestly do not think I can be, at least not by any normal weapon.”

“So if I cut off your head, you would recover?” Billie asked skeptically.   Emily made a noise of distress as she emerged from behind the screen, wearing pajamas. She got on the bed and sat next to the Outsider, placing her arms around him.  He leaned into her, a thoughtful look on his face.

“It would hurt an awful lot, but I would recover.”

“Are you sure?” Emily asked, sounding truly worried.

He smiled at her, a fond look on his face. “I certainly am not planning on testing it out anytime soon.  I have had my fill of fighting.”

Billie pinched the bridge of her nose.  The two of them were disgustingly sweet, cuddling together and being worried about safety and health. 

“So, I am guessing you ended up fighting your captors, and due to your initial excitement at the fire being reported, you did not start that fire?”

The Outsider nodded.  “A bunch of Rateaters had made bonecharms that allowed them to Blink.  I have saved one for you (you will get it later).  They wanted a witch’s skin to make more.  Four of them seized me and took me to a boat.”

“And what happened to the boat?” Billie found herself crossing her arms as she listened to the story.

“I am getting to that,” he replied testily. “I, in my infinite wisdom, did not want the four to have backup so I thought relocating the boat roughly thirteen nautical miles out to sea was a good idea.”

“Where it would be smashed by a pod of whales,” Emily added with a smirk.

He was quiet for a moment before adding. “Yes, that was my plan.”

Billie decided not to comment on that part. “So, how on earth did it end up in Lady Boyle’s ballroom wall?”

Both Emily and the Outsider shrugged. “I felt like I was being pulled in a certain direction, like how a piece of iron is pulled to a magnet, and I could not escape.” He said, a thoughtful look on his face. “It was very strange.”

 “Very strange indeed,” Billie murmured.  Emily loosened her embrace on the Outsider and leaned forward.  His dark eyes shifted to look at her, and a wary expression replaced his previous thoughtfulness.

“Billie, starting next week I would like for you to train the Outsider how to fight.  Corvo and I will join you as often as possible.”

The Outsider did not look pleased at all.  He did not open his mouth in complaint, however.  In Billie’s opinion, Emily’s request was reasonable, and the Outsider knew it.  It was just too much of a risk to leave him untrained, particularly when he proved that his judgment was poor in a fight.  Improving that was a top priority.      

Outwardly, Billie nodded stiffly.  “Alright, consider it arranged.”

Emily smiled and inclined her head. “Thank you for your time, you may leave.”

The Spymaster bowed and took her leave, eager to go to bed.  At least when training the black-eyed bastard he wouldn’t be going off and causing trouble. 


	25. Chapter 24: Training

##  Chapter 24: Training

A day came and went before Billie saw the Outsider again.  Yesterday was spent dealing with, a sudden Overseer assault on the Rateaters, and meeting the new High Overseer.  Chopin was a pleasant and reasonable enough person; he certainly was eager to work with the City Watch and the Spymaster.  But there was something about him that felt off to her.  Perhaps it was his unsettling blue eyes, or his disarmingly easygoing manner. Like the Outsider, Billie decided to keep a personal eye on Pavel Chopin.

Billie was eating late morning snack and listening to an audiograph from her main Morley agent when the black-eyed bastard quite suddenly appeared in her office.  Immediately she removed her feet from her desk and stopped the audiograph, privately embarrassed by her need to be presentable.

“Good morning Billie Lurk,” the Outsider greeted calmly. “I realized that I neglected to give you the bonecharm that I saved for you.”

He stood on the other side of her desk, hands folded behind his back.  The bruise on his jaw had completely faded, leaving no indication of his recent misadventures.

“Oh, thank you,” she replied, somewhat at a loss with what else to say.  He inclined his head and reached into his pocket, pulling out the bonecharm and dropping in onto her desk.  She picked it up, feeling its warmth and hearing its hum.  The Outsider tucked his hands behind his back.  The expression on his face was one of discomfort.

“I feel,” he began reluctantly. “we must talk about you training me.”

Ah, this.  “Yes, we should,” Billie agreed.  “I have not given it much thought yet. Strangely, there is no place for training within the Tower.  It makes me wonder where Corvo trained Emily.”

“He trained her on the Tower grounds,” he answered. “Which I do not presume is an option for us.”

“Good grief no,” Billie replied with a snort. “While we will be starting with the basics of fighting, I am also planning on guiding you on more effectively using your powers to fight.”

The Outsider nodded in approval and understanding, and remained silent as Billie thought.  The fort on Kingsparrow Isle was rarely used and visited, and it had a rather nice training room with all the amenities. 

“Not Kingsparrow Isle.”  Billie jumped at the Outsider’s sudden, certain rejection of that idea.  “There are three guards there who are dreadfully nosy and terrible at keeping secrets.  And there is no point in trying to remove them; all nosy guards get relocated to Kingsparrow.”

She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Alright, where else would you suggest?”

He blinked and tilted his head. “Why the _Dreadful Wale_ of course.”

Billie sat up and considered it.  The _Dreadful Wale_ was docked at a sea-side wharf on the outskirts of Dunwall.  Very few people visited the area, and those that did were not the sort that gossiped. 

“That could work,” she murmured. “The only issue would be getting there in a timely fashion…”

“I can bring us there,” he said. 

“Alright!” Billie clapped her hands, suddenly eager.  “Let’s go then.”

The Outsider was clearly startled. “Right now?”

“Why not now?” Billie got to her feet, grabbing her gun and dagger.  “I have a free hour, and I doubt you have anything better to do.”

The deity grumbled something about audiographs, but even as he did so Billie could see the Void lick at his frame and hers.  The world bent and darkened, and she could feel an impressive heat before the world reformed.  The gulls called and a brine-filled breeze combed through her short hair.  They were on the deck _Dreadful Wale_.

“So, now what?”  The Outsider had his arms folded across his chest, and was valiantly trying to hide his nervousness behind a mask of disinterest.

Billie put her weapons down.  It was strange having someone so powerful nervous of her.  In any case, he was her student now. 

“First I must assess how you are in a fight, no powers.”  Billie stood opposite of him, arms akimbo.   “Let’s start with how you stand.  Show me how you would stand if someone challenged you to a fight.”

To her surprise he fell into a proper wide stance, his right foot off towards the back, his left foot forward.  He brought his left hand up before his face, and kept the right mid-chest.  His fists, however, were not formed correctly. 

“If you make a fist like that you’re going to break your thumb and wrist,” Billie adjusted his thumb and turned his wrist until his hand was at the right angle.  “Other than that, you have a good stance, not a bad start.”

 The Outsider looked less nervous, and she watched his eerie eyes follow her as she stood ahead of him and held up her hands.

“Throw a punch to my palms, don’t hold back.”

A look of concentration overcame his face, and with a small amount of skill and a surprising amount of force he hit her palm. 

“Again,” she commanded, feeling her palm sting from the impact.

This time he threw a punch with his left fist, this time much more skillfully and with even more force, causing Billie to wince and give her hand a shake.

“So you’re a lefty huh?”

The Outsider made a face.  “It was one of the things that marked me for the Void.”

“Marked you for the Void?”  Billie had not meant to ask, truly, she didn’t.   But it just slipped out.

“I was _chosen_ to be the next representative of the Void,” he replied with biting sweetness. “For most of my existence it was not something I resented.  After all, I went from starving beggar to god.  But there is only so much one can take before they crack.”  His hands dropped to his sides, still curled into tight fists. “I was never made to know as much as I do… I have suffered and bore witness to suffering.  For thousands of years my physical form was trapped within the Void in an endless scream.  It. Was. Agony.”  The Outsider spat out the last three words, and his horrible black eyes looked into her very spirit.  “In another time you would have freed me from my cursed prison, one way or another.  Not long after Emily disposed of Delilah, you would reunite with Daud and plot to kill me.”

Billie gaped at him. It certainly was true that after Emily had earned her victory and Solokov was settled back in Dunwall, she returned to Karnaca to find her old mentor.  And find him she did, running a small vineyard alongside his old lieutenant Thomas.  The reunion was bittersweet, and it was while she was there that she received the call to service from Emily.  Not once did they ever discuss any kind of killing, not even of vineyard pests. 

“But you are free now?” she croaked, unsure what else to say. 

The Outsider turned away from her, his eyes closing as he faced into the wind. A small smile grew on his face.

“Am I free?” he murmured. “Not truly.  The Void asks three things of me, and I am still bound to deliver them.  But I am free to shut my mind off from the endless stream of life; I am free to feel the wind on my skin, to feel love for another person and receive it. I am free enough to attempt to make a life for myself, something that was taken from me so long ago.”

Billie smiled and also turned her face into the wind, inhaling the salt and seaweed.  Together they listened to the call of the gulls for a few minutes.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For trusting me enough to tell me.”

The Outsider did not say anything, but she could tell that he appreciated this thanks.

“Now,” she clapped her hands. “Let’s see how good you are at dodging.”

***

The next time they were able to meet up again for training was three days later on 20th day of the Month of Rain.  It was an uncommonly sunny day, but a brisk wind rolling off the sea had Billie pulling out her warmer jacket.  She was glad for it when they materialized on the deck of the Dreadful Wale and were hit with a blast of cold wind.  The Outsider shivered mightily in his threadbare brown jacket and his teeth chattered.

“Do you have a warmer jacket?” Billie asked, concerned.  “If it is too cold we can return to the Tower and fetch you one.”

He shook his head. “I should warm up once we start moving around.”

“Alright, if you insist,” she replied, skeptical. 

Billie had spent most of the last session assessing the Outsider’s abilities, and he had potential.  Whatever ancient fighting he had seen practiced, he clearly absorbed some of its principles.  With enough practice he would become a decent fighter even without powers.  But as she drilled him through stances, Billie could see the Outsider shivering with each cold breeze that flowed across the deck.  She opened her mouth to suggest that they could move below deck, but a stubborn glare from her pupil shut her up.

So they spent the next thirty minutes learning and practicing disarming.  She finally called for a stop when his hands began trembling so badly he could no longer hold the practice dagger.

“Alright that’s it,” Billie put her hands on her hips, feeling like a mother as she stared the Outsider down. “We are going back to the tower and getting you a warmer jacket.”

“No we are not,” he retorted stubbornly, his commanding look undercut by his shivers and chattering teeth.

“Look, you are clearly cold, and I cannot in good conscious keep you out here when we can get you a warmer jacket.”

“I do not have a warmer jacket,” the Outsider looked down, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment rather than cold. “My only other jacket was stolen when the Rateaters jumped me.”

Billie stared at him. She wondered for a moment how she never noticed that he wore the same two things over and over, and now the same patched up jacket every day.

“Well we can just borrow a jacket from Corvo,” she suggested.

He pulled a face of disgust. “I am _not_ wearing Corvo’s clothes.”

Billie sighed and brought a hand to her forehead.  The Outsider was choosing an odd moment to show his proud side.

“I would have asked Emily but I do not fit in any of her jackets,” he added with an embarrassed mutter.

“You know you could ask her for a new jacket, or for money to buy a jacket yourself,” Billie replied, rather frustrated.

The Outsider looked genuinely horrified at the idea, prompting her to roll her eyes.

“Oh come on,” she scoffed. “Emily would be more than happy to get you a damn jacket, especially because she wouldn’t like to see you freezing to death.”

“I know,” he replied through his chattering teeth. “But I already eat too much; I looked at the kitchen inventory and budget and they are spending five hundred more with me in residence than they were before the coup- OW!”

Billie, tired of listening to such truly infuriating sentiment, grabbed the Outsider by the ear and dragged him over to her.

“Do I have to get Emily here and have us beat into you that you are worthy of having a full stomach and being well clothed?”

A sudden wolf whistle caught her attention.  “HEY OWEN!”

Bemused, Billie let go of the Outsider, allowing him to stand up and clutch his sore ear with a pout.  They both looked to the wharf to see two skinny young men waving up at them, bundled up in colorful coats. It was two of the Outsider’s drinking buddies, whose names Billie never bothered to learn.

“Is that your gal?” yelled one, fellow with curly honey-blonde hair.

“Are you daft Roger?” the other elbowed his friend. “Owen’s gal looks kinda like the Empress.  That’s Billie Lurk ya knucklehead.”

The Outsider leaned on the edge of the ship, looking down at the two. “What are you two doing all the way out here?”

“My uncle runs this wharf!” Roger replied cheekily. “I should be asking you what you are doing here!”

Billie joined the Outsider at the edge of the boat.  “I’m training my assistant here,” she proclaimed to the two Hatters. 

The two made a noise of delighted interest.   
“Why don’t you both come down for tea!” invited Roger.  “It’s certainly good weather for it.”

“We would love to!” the Outsider replied, cutting off Billie who was ready to decline.  Before she could chide him he vaulted over the side of the _Dreadful Wale_ and landed rather impressively on the wharf below.  He looked up at her rather expectantly, glasses materializing upon his face. With a roll of her eyes, she walked over to him via the gangplank. He waited for her to catch up before they joined the two Hatters, still shivering.

“My uncle won’t mind if we borrow his cabin for a bit,” Roger explained cheerfully as he led them to a plain wooden building. “He’d be tickled pink to learn the Royal Spymaster and her assistant were over for tea.”

“Speaking of that,” Todd said as they entered the warm cabin. “You (he wagged a finger at the Outsider) were playing coy about being an assistant to the Spymaster.”

The Outsider shrugged while Billie quietly took a seat at the small table near a potbelly iron stove. 

“Is it not the job of someone working as a spy to play coy about their profession?” he replied with matter-of-fact innocence.   Todd laughed and the two joined Billie at the table. Roger went around the nearby kitchen, removing chipped tea cups and a battered tin of tea leaves from the cupboards.  The kettle was already atop the stove, merrily piping away.

Roger hurried back to the table, depositing the four teacups and tin onto the table with the speed of someone who was about to drop the lot. 

“Tea should be ready soon,” he announced with a smile as he sat between Todd and Billie.  His eyes turned to the Outsider and he looked at the deity up and down with a sudden frown.  “What on earth happened to your nice coat Owen?”

Billie watched the Outsider, wondering how he was going to explain his missing jacket. 

“A group of Rateaters jumped me and stole it.”  He tried to keep his tone light, but an echoy hiss of anger seeped in at the word “Rateaters”.  Billie unwillingly shuddered, as did Roger and Todd.

“Man, that bites,” Todd said sympathetically. “It’s a bit odd though.  Your jacket is nice but not so nice that it deserves being jumped for.”

A flicker of realization bloomed in Roger’s light eyes. “Wait a second, was this tied with the incident that happened last week?”

“You mean the fire in the Distillery District?” Billie interjected, feeling that it would be suspicious not to say anything at all.

Roger turned to her, somewhat bewildered. “No, I meant the boat ending up in Lady Boyle’s walls.  But now that you mention it, it is rather peculiar that a fire broke out in a Rateater hideout the same time their riverboat appeared in the Boyle mansion.”

Todd brought his hand to his chin, stroking the stubble that grew there.  “Then the Overseers raided the area the next day, which is long overdue if you ask me.  Rateaters are an occult bunch, I heard whispers that they seized one of Delilah’s witches from Coldridge and skinned her alive for some ritual.”

The two men turned their gaze to the Outsider, peering at him with analytical eyes. 

“You certainly have a witchy aura around you Owen,” Todd continued thoughtfully. “Is that why they took your jacket?”

Billie snorted. “What ritual would call for a witch’s jacket?”

“Actually it is a key ingredient in one recipe for making clothes that are impervious to blades,” the Outsider added quietly.  “But no, that was not why they jumped me.  They mistook me for a witch and were planning on skinning me for their ritual.”

Roger and Todd winced, sucking in air between their teeth.  A moment later the kettle began to whistle and rattle, prompting Roger to get to his feet and take the kettle from the stove to the table.

“Alright, tea’s ready,” he announced. “Should have enough water for eight cups in there.”

Billie spooned some tea leaves into her cup and poured the freshly boiled water into the chipped porcelain. 

“So how did you escape?” Todd asked, his voice brimming with curiosity.

The Outsider shrugged as he fixed his cup of tea. “The ritual went wrong for them, and I was the only one that lived.”

Roger held up a finger, his eyes narrowed. “So, was that ritual the thing that caused the boat to appear in Lady Boyle’s wall?”

“Mmhm,” the Outsider blew on his steaming tea before taking a careful sip.  “I was on the boat when it happened.  It was a very odd thing.”

The table rocked as Todd slammed his hands down in surprise. “You got into the Boyles?!”

That pulled a laugh from Billie. Rather than focus on their friend surviving a ritual in a teleporting boat, the youths instead fixated on the fact he ended up in the famous family’s house. 

“Oh don’t be like that Ms. Lurk,” Roger remarked with a pout. “Owen here got to go to one of those famous parties! Since it’s a given he survived and all it’s only fair for us to ask him what the party was like.”

“It’s far more entertaining and far less heretical,” added Todd eagerly. “Magic just makes me shudder.”

The Outsider chuckled and put down his teacup. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I rather late into the event, and I was unconscious for a quite a bit.  Not to mention I was effectively blind at the time.  Esma Boyle did give me a shirt to replace my missing one though.”

“You lucky bastard!” cried Roger, a look of astonished delight on his face.

Todd sighed wistfully. “What I wouldn’t give to have Esma Boyle give me a shirt.”

Billie raised an eyebrow and the Outsider gave her a knowing look.  She looked back at the two Hatters while taking a sip of her tea.  They certainly were Esma’s preferred age for sexual partners.

“I can put you both in touch with her if you would like,” the Outsider offered.  The two men looked at him in surprise.

“You would do that for us?” Roger’s voice was hushed with disbelief. Todd’s jaw was practically scraping the table.   The Outsider nodded and took a sip from his cup.

“It will certainly keep her from grabbing my ass the next time she sees me,” he grumbled into his tea.

Billie inhaled her tea and began to choke, prompting her to thump her chest.  Did Esma do that really do that when she first met the Outsider, and in front of Emily?  Or was he simply looking into the future?

The two Hatters laughed. “We will gladly protect you from unwanted molestation,” Todd declared with jesting sincerity.

“And I thank you for your sacrifice,” the Outsider returned with similar humor.

Everyone chuckled, and sat for a few minutes in silence enjoying the warm cabin and surprisingly good tea.

Billie glanced at the beat up clock tucked by the door.  It was getting around time for them to leave.  She finished her cup and stood up.

“Thank you very much for the tea,” the two looked at her and the Outsider stood up as well, realizing what was happening. “But we must get going.”

“It was my pleasure Ms. Lurk!” Roger replied with a smile and a flourish. “Don’t worry about the cups just leave them on the table.”

“Oh, and before we forget!” added Todd. “Owen, Fergus is going back to Morley to get married so be at the Boiled Mermaid on the 23rd at 8:00 sharp!”

The Outsider gave the two a thumbs up. “Thank you for letting me know, I will see you there.”

They left the cabin and were immediately hit with a cold breeze, causing the Outsider to shiver.

“Will we be returning to training?” he asked as Billie lead them back to the Dreadful Wale.

“No,” Billie replied with a shake of her head. “Practice some of the moves on your own, I need to get back to the Tower. Reports don’t just write themselves.”

He shot her a grateful look, and with a swirl of magic he took them back to the Tower.


	26. Chapter 25: Back at the Boiled Mermaid

##  Chapter 25: Back at the Boiled Mermaid

Emily smiled as Greta skillfully deposited eight bottles of cider on the table. 

“You must have been a serving wench in a past life,” she commented, impressed.

“What can I say, I have a talent for carrying many things at once,” Greta slid into her seat, a proud look on her face.

It was three weeks to the day since Emily had last been inside the Boiled Mermaid and she was honestly glad to be back. Returning was Greta’s suggestion, first made during her birthday party and again when she came to visit the day after Lady Boyle’s ball.  She was bringing a group of her Sisters for Emily to meet, a group which included Bernice and Marzia. 

“I must say, they have made some improvements to the place since I was last here,” said Sister Mary as she helped herself to a cider.  Emily already found herself fond of the older woman, who wore her greying hair back in a neat bun at the nape of her neck.  Perhaps it was due to the fact that she had brought a selection of banned novels for Emily to choose from as a gift.

“Was that back when the Olaskirs still reigned?” Bernice asked with playful innocence and sincerity.  Two Sisters, the round mousy Eileen and the broad tall Hope, choked on their drinks.  Greta outright laughed.

“The Rhydderches, actually,” Sister Mary replied lightly.  “It’s good to see they’ve installed electric lights.”

“They also serve a surprisingly good breakfast,” added the motherly Sister Reilly, her wispy hair tucked under a traditional cap. 

“Really?” Emily could not help expressing her surprise. 

“Oh yes,” Sister Reilly smiled and took a sip of her cider. “Sausages, scrambled eggs, toast, and a cup of tea. It really hits the spot after a long night with the midwives.”

“So _that’s_ where you’ve been some nights!” cried Hope, astonished.

“I thought that the Oracular Order did not allow their members to leave the chapel?” Emily asked, placing her elbow on the table.

Sister Mary waved her hand. “It is not that we are not allowed to leave, but more that we prefer not to leave,” she explained. “We can sit with our books and incense and see the world through our clairvoyance.  Greta and I have no reason to leave the library.”

“Sisters like Hope and I have labs where we can do experiments,” interjected Eileen.  “We get our materials through our Brothers.” 

The women nodded, quiet and thoughtful.  Emily found herself looking at each woman, even more curious.

“So, why leave the chapel?”

Sister Reilly let go of her cider and slowly folded her hands.  “I first joined the Order when I was sixteen.  The life of a Sister was pure luxury compared to the tiny farm I grew up on; I could just sit down and read _anything_ I wanted.  Reading about midwifery was particularly interesting to me, as my aunt was one and trained me as her apprentice for a time.  So many of the treatises were just plain _wrong_ \- and downright harmful.  I could do some good by re-writing them and having my advice passed along as Abbey-sanctioned.”

“That was actually how I met her,” Sister Mary interrupted. “I was supposed to advise her on what was canonically heretical and thus could not be recommended by the Abbey.”

“And that started a year-long project to interview every midwife, doctor, and madame in Dunwall.” Sister Reilly said, a fond look on her face. 

Eileen slammed her hand on the table, causing everyone to jump. “Is that why a whole bunch of prostitutes showed up during the Fugue Feast in 1840 with a giant cart of bonecharms?”

Greta blinked. “What?”

“Oh yes!” cried Sister Reilly eagerly. “That Fugue Feast gave us a lot of information about how the magic and midwifery overlapped. We still have the interviews in the archive.”

“By Holgar, my wrist hurt for DAYS after that,” groaned Sister Mary. “Pretty much every midwife we talked to stumbled in and told us about how they would recommend some aspect of magic or tell them to visit a shrine to ask for the Outsider’s favor.”

Marzia scoffed loudly, surprising Emily. “The Outsider is a man; he doesn’t care a whit about childbirth and pregnancy.”

Emily made a mental note to ask the Outsider about that, though she had a feeling that Marzia was right but for the wrong reasons.  Something as normal as pregnancy must be downright boring compared to violent revolts or conspiracies.

“In any case,” Sister Reilly continued, her tone gentle. “Many of the midwives had techniques that worked, some of the doctors had access to surgeries and equipment that could save lives, and a few madams had useful methods for preventing pregnancy.  They just were not speaking to each other, and many were relying on magic to fix the things that were beyond their abilities.”

“So Sister Reilly started a program around Dunwall to provide a support system for midwives in each neighborhood, connecting them to capable doctors and allowing them to discuss techniques and learn,” Marzia declared, a proud look on her face. “We have found that bonecharm and magic use has dropped drastically within the last 10 years due to the program.”

“We have to keep track of that to keep our funding,” Sister Reilly said apologetically.

Emily listened to the whole thing with no small amount of admiration.  “How have I never heard about this before?” she said, consternation mixing in with wonder.

“You aren’t poor,” Bernice said bluntly.  “And this does not factor in to politics on your level.  For the Abbey it’s good for our image and our message of teaching people not to rely on the Outsider.”

“It also feels nice to help people,” Marzia said with a sniff.

“Just because something helps people does not mean it is going to get noticed for that reason,” Eileen argued.   “Rosebarrow’s whale oil is not praised as a way to keep the poorest among us from freezing to death, but rather as powering our industry.”

Emily took a sip of cider, a question forming in her head.

“Speaking of powering industry, do any of you have ideas with how to deal with the shortage of whales?”

 The Sisters looked around the table, most eyes falling on Hope and Eileen, both who eyed each other, then Greta.  Hope spoke first:

“Would you like to hear reasonable ideas first, or absurd ones?”

Emily thought about it for a moment.  “We can start with the reasonable, and then hear the absurd.”

Hope smiled and cracked her knuckles.  “First is to wean ourselves off whale oil in areas that we can.  Textile factories worked just fine using rivers for power, so have them go back to that.  We can also use wind to generate electricity, like in Karnaca.  Tyvia has been experimenting with using some of the hot springs they have.  And bullets sure as void do not need to be made with whale oil!”  She made her last point by passionately slamming her hand onto the table.

“Here, here!” cried Sister Mary and Greta, raising their bottles. Hope eagerly took hers and clanked it against theirs. 

Eileen waited for them to calm down before she cleared her throat.  “I’m working on a finding a way to dilute the oil without it losing its potency,” she declared.  “The idea came to me during meditation, so I know it is possible, but I have not been particularly successful yet.”  The Sister picked up her cider and took a long drag from it, putting it down with a little force.

All eyes turned to Greta, Emily’s curious- the Sisters knowing.

“So Emily,” Greta started, an exaggerated smirk on her face, turned to face her. “We could start generating electricity through magic.”

“Oh?” she replied, putting just the right amount of sincerity in her voice. “How so?”

“First,” Greta held up a finger, and then gathered three of the cider bottles. “We take three skulls of whales and arrange them like so.”  She placed the bottles in the shape of a triangle.  “Certain symbols must be carved into the cranium.  Then we must make a rope from the hair of someone who is “Void-touched.”  The criterion for that is not explained, but I am sure that can be figured out through trial and error,” Greta waved it off. “Then with the rope, it must be threaded through the jaws of the whales during the sixth new moon of the year.   After that, the generator is regarded as complete and power may be transported to the desired location through wires of copper.”

 Emily laughed. “What a wonderful invention! Who was the genius that came up with this?”

Greta shrugged. “It is the oldest thing we have in our archive.  It is actually this large metal etching written in the oldest version of our language that we have.  Nobody is able to date it, but we did find it in an oddly well-preserved chest underneath our chapel when we were trying to expand the basement.”

“Fascinating,” Emily murmured, not quite knowing what to say. 

“That is one way to describe many of the things that we have in our archive,” Sister Mary said.  “But enough about that, I can hear the band playing Strip the Willow.”

Hope and Bernice leapt to their feet, eagerly abandoning the table for the dance floor.  Emily turned to Greta.

“Strip the Willow?” she questioned. The red-head smiled, and took her arm.

“Come, I’ll show you!”

***

After they got up to dance the night devolved into a great deal more revelry than Greta intended.  Emily, Hope, and Bernice were lured over to an arm-wrestling match held by a brawny gap-toothed woman.  Eileen followed them to keep an eye on the three.  Sister Reilly and Marzia took out their crochet hooks and yarn and started working on a pattern.  As for Sister Mary, Greta last saw her further up the dance line.   The one thing she did miss about her life before the Order was the fabulous dances she was invited to- Greta did love dancing the night away.  

After a breathless reel she sat down to take a breather when something, rather, someone caught her eye.  Greta walked to the corner of the pub room, where a small crowd of people, including Sister Mary, had pulled up chairs around a group of five men.  And sitting in the center, holding a pint of _something_ the color of whale oil, was the Outsider.    Sister Mary noticed her, and pulled her forward.

“Greta, why did you not tell me that the Empress had recruited a master of the Occult?” she admonished in a whispered tone.

Greta looked over to the Outsider, who was sans glasses and drinking that horrid blue beverage.  The crowd seemed entranced, except for Sister Mary, whose green eyes glittered knowingly. 

“I was asked not to tell anyone about him,” she whispered back.  At that moment the Outsider seemed to finally take notice of her. 

“Greta Manderly!” he greeted, placing the half-empty pint on the table.  “Welcome to this little corner of the world.”

An empty chair appeared right next to Sister Mary’s and she warily took a seat. “What are you doing here?”

The Outsider clapped a large blond man on the shoulder. “Fergus here is going home to get married!” the declaration summoned a series of whoops and hollers from the gathered crowd.  Fergus just blushed and inclined his head. “I foresee that their marriage will be long and happy, mostly because they will not be in the same space for more than a month at a time.”

The sailors in the group laughed, and Fergus shrugged. “If it works it works.”

Greta looked around at the bunch- several sailors, a couple City watchmen, and a few Hatters.  “So, you are all here to celebrate Fergus’ wedding?” she asked, gesturing to the group.

“Heck no!” cried a chubby older woman.  “The kid was talking about fixing bonecharms and I came over to ask him to fix mine.”

Greta’s jaw dropped.  She turned to face the Outsider, who was sitting rather gracefully in his chair.

“You do know you can get arrested for that,” she said carefully.

The Outsider began laughing. “I know! That’s why I told the lady that bonecharms are not going to fix her difficult relationship with her daughter and to get rid of the rune her kid has in her room.”

Greta looked back at the woman. “And you are still here?”

She shrugged. “Advice is advice. Besides, there is something entertaining in seeing a lunatic dispensing wisdom.”

“And I am a font of wisdom,” the Outsider declared with a flourish. 

“Really?” Greta pushed back, skeptical. “Name some wisdom you have dispensed so far.”

A smug smile crossed his face. “Do not worship the Outsider, he does not give a fig about you and if you get anything in return that is by accident.   Voting rights should not be tied to property; instead every citizen of the Isles should have a right to vote for their members of Parliament.  And finally,” he ticked the third thing off on his fingers. “Do not drink 190 proof alcohols unless you have a death wish or the liver of a god.”

There was a whoop from the other side of the room, catching Greta’s attention for a brief second.  The arm-wrestling contest had changing into a drinking contest as they lined up shots of Tyvia’s Blood.  Greta decided dealing with the Outsider demanded her attention more than her younger Sisters and Empress possibly getting drunk.

“Alright, that is indeed… wisdom,” she admitted. “But is that really enough to draw a crowd?”

“C’mon Sister!” said a young man with more tattoos than bare skin.  “It’s not every day you get to talk to someone so Void-touched.”

The Outsider rolled his eyes. “You will not think I am so Void-touched when you get the clap after fucking blue-eyed Esther.”

The young man laughed. “See what I mean?”

Greta regarded the group dubiously. “No not really?”

“Here’s a better example,” offered a City Watch officer. “Hey Owen!”

The Outsider hummed as he sipped from his pint, an eyebrow raised.

“What’s making my marriage fall apart?” the officer asked, a look of satisfied humor in his eyes. His City Watch mates snickered at his question.

“Hmmm,” the Outsider made a face as he thought, then snapped his fingers. “Your snoring and refusal to fold laundry.”

The trio of men burst into brief laughter. “You see,” loudly whispered one of them. “Bernard here isn’t even married!”

The rest of the crowd laughed too, except for Greta.  It was hard to laugh at premonitions.

The Outsider shrugged at the merriment.  “They just think I am crazy.  And maybe I am because I think I have been having these feelings… all the time recently.”

“Is it indigestion?” Greta said flatly.

He barked a laugh.  “Good one.  But seriously… feelings.”

It finally occurred to Greta that the Outsider was drunk.  

A sudden loud crash a something was flung clear across the room, causing dancers to flee out of the way and everyone to turn and see what caused the noise.  Greta craned her neck and saw it was a chair.  And at the chair’s origin was a very angry looking Emily standing toe to toe with a very pissed off mountain of a woman.  Greta snuck a look at the Outsider- the expression on his face was a combination of admiration… and hunger.  The other woman spoke first, her booming voice carrying across the room.

“Go suck the Outsider’s cock, cheater,” she snarled.

Emily’s head was bent back to look up at the enormous woman, her face losing some of her anger.

“You know what, I will!” she spat back. “And I will enjoy every second of it.”

There was a beat of silence; even the band stopped playing their music.  Greta was busy trying to convince herself she was in a parallel universe where that did _not_ just happen.  The Outsider looked like the Fugue Feast had been declared early.  The quiet was so tense that one could cut it with a knife.

Then Bernice began to laugh.  It was a donkey’s bray of a laugh as she grabbed onto Hope for support, looking ready to collapse on the floor in hysterics.  Next, Sister Eileen, a sharp cackle filled with delight.  Finally, to Greta’s surprise, Sister Mary started laughing too (If she was being truthful, it was not actually surprising).   She leaned towards Greta, a conspiratorial look on her face.

“I think someone is going to have a very good night,” she commented through her mirth.

“Alright, we’re going,” Greta declared, grabbing the Outsider by the collar.  Much to her relief Hope wrangled Emily, and Marzia and Sister Reilly joined them on the way out, bewilderment evident on their faces.   Bernice and Eileen followed, still laughing. 

The Outsider was, fortunately, obliging as she dragged him towards the exit.  Sister Mary ran ahead, darting out of the doors.

“I’ll get us a railcar!” she said. 

Emily seemed to notice the Outsider for the first time as Greta led him outside.  A large smile crossed her face and she practically threw herself at him. Hope yelped, a look of horror on her face

“My love, my pretty man!” Emily gushed as she draped herself atop of him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh no she’s drunk too,” Greta muttered aloud.

“Never mind that, who is he!” hissed Hope. 

“He was that fellow I was telling you about from the Boyle’s party,” said Marzia, who was watching the couple croon sweet nothings at each other. “The one on the boat.”

“So just some random witch-cursed guy?”   Hope somehow sounded even more horrified.

“No, he’s- hey, hey, HEY KEEP IT KID FRIENDLY!” Greta interrupted her reply to deal with the escalating display of affection, yanking hands back up to shoulders.    Much to her relief the railcar arrived, with Sister Mary already inside.  Sister Reilly, Marzia, Bernice and Eileen all piled in, leaving Greta and Hope to deal with the lovebirds. 

“Look the railcar is here, so you might need to separate in order to get in,” Hope said somewhat testily. 

Emily regarded her with half-lidded brown eyes, and a small smile. “Thank you for being such a good friend Hope.  You are a sweetheart, did you know that?”

Hope turned bright red and began to sputter.  Greta settled the matter by grabbing the Outsider by the collar once again and dragging him over to the steps.  Emily unwrapped from him, but still held his right hand tightly with her left.  Finally all in the car, Emily and the Outsider returned to wrapping themselves up each other.  The Sisters just watched them, Hope red-faced, Sister Reilly and Marzia lost, Bernice and Eileen gleeful, and Sister Mary knowing. 

“Did you know the last time he was this drunk he was crying about whales?” Greta said, trying to go back to better times.

“Will someone tell me who in the Void is he?!” Hope spat, her voice lowered.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Bernice snickered, her voice also hushed. “He is the owner of the cock that Heather told her to go suck!”

Eileen howled with laughter, tears streaming down her face.  Sister Reilly fiddled with the handle of her yarn bag nervously.

“That’s not funny Bernice!” Hope forced the words out through gritted teeth. 

“No it is!” argued Eileen as she gathered herself, giggling madly. “Just think about it! The muthaeffing Outsider having a sex drive!”

“That’s what it is!” The Outsider interjected with sudden understanding. “Thank you tiny industry Sister!”

Emily began cackling, her arms around her neck and legs across his lap.  “You don’t know what a sex drive is?”

He chuckled and placed his forehead on hers.  “It has been four thousand years since I had one, so cut me some slack.”

Hope’s face went from red to white within seconds.  Eileen immediately stopped giggling and gaped at the two.  Bernice, however, went from snickering to laughter again.   Emily whispered something into the Outsider’s ear, and the two dissolved.  Greta huffed, annoyed.  Now they would have to check to make sure the two ended up in the right place.

“Let’s hope they remember to lock the door,” she grumbled.  Suddenly she was grabbed and lifted somewhat aloft.  

“You KNEW?!”  screamed Hope, shaking her like a bag of apples. “You knew and you did not separate them, you did not stop the MOTHER FUCKING OUTSIDER from just _taking_ Emily!”

“I am not getting in the middle of two horny people determined to fuck,” Greta snapped back.

“Emily is drunk Greta!” cried Sister Reilly with surprising vigor. “Really, really drunk! She cannot consent to anything.”

“So is the Outsider!” Greta retorted.  “They are both blindingly drunk and will make mistakes! I just want to check they are back at the tower, and leave them to make said mistakes.”

“Will everybody shut up!?” Eileen cried.  The railcar went silent.  Eileen was rubbing her temples her hand supported on her elbows.  “A show of hands, who knew that that man was the Outsider?”

Greta raised her hand, as did Bernice, and after a moment, Sister Mary.  Hope looked at them with disgust.

“You knew and you just let Emily throw herself at him,” she said, her voice cold. “You let her get charmed by him.”

“Hope, shut up,” Bernice snapped just as coldly. “Emily knows full well who the Outsider is, and is choosing to be with him.  Just because you are bitter that you can’t fantasize about her anymore does not mean you can remove her agency.”

“You take that back!” Hope threw herself at Bernice, causing Greta, Eileen, and even Sister Mary, to hold her back.

“No fighting!” commanded Sister Mary as she forced Hope to sit down.  “Bernice, that was uncalled for, apologize to your Sister.”

“I am sorry for what I said Hope,” Bernice apologized sullenly.  Hope grunted, her eyes fixed on the ground and her arms crossed tightly. 

“Now that we are calm,” Sister Mary continued. “Let us put our heads together, and figure out what we are going to do.”


	27. Chapter 26: An Opinion Made

##  Chapter 26: An Opinion Made

As the rail car jerked into motion, the Oracular Sisters within started a debate. 

“We _cannot_ let anyone know the Outsider is literally walking among us,” Sister Mary declared with force. “It would cause a mass panic and perhaps even another coup.”

“Agreed,” Eileen chimed in, a determined look on her face. “But we cannot just leave the Outsider alone.  Holgar knows what he gets up to.”

“Mostly eating to be honest,” Greta interjected somewhat sullenly.  “Eating, floating around, ragging on MPs, visiting whales, and staring off into the distance.”

All eyes turned to him, Marzia looking at her in disbelief. “Eating?  The Outsider, source of black magic and all things foul, his main hobby is eating?”

Greta could not stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Calling the Outsider the source of all things foul is quite the stretch Marzia.”

The youngest Sister gasped, and a frightened look appeared on her face. “What has happened to you Greta?”

“What has happened to me?” Greta rounded on her with no small amount of anger and revulsion. “I have been given the fucking ability to actively fight the Void, just like you.” She jabbed her finger in Marzia’s direction.  “I met the Outsider on the same day we defeated Delilah, when he was close to dying because of magic that did not come from him or Elanor.”

“Then why the fuck did you not let him die?” snarled Hope, slamming her fist onto the seat.

“Alright,” Greta snapped back, throwing her hands out. “Let’s say I did. Let’s say I cut off his fucking head and paraded it from Dunwall to White Cliff. We rejoice, we celebrate, The Outsider is dead!”  She brought her hands together and looked around at her sisters. Realization flickered into the eyes of Sister Reilly and Eileen.  Sister Mary sat in her corner, a look of tired knowledge in her eyes. 

“Where does that leave us?” she was unable to present the question without some mocking in her tone.

“The Abbey is virtually fucked,” Bernice said in a deadpan voice. “What do we oppose? The Outsider and his works.”

“Yes!” Hope cried, agitated. “That is why Greta should have killed him!  How could you think that his death would be a bad thing?”

“That would not put a stop to magic,” Sister Mary said, her even voice cutting through the tense air. “The Outsider is not the source of magic, the Void is.  But let us say his death puts a halt to magic.  What would we as a group have to do?  We vanquished the Outsider, put an end to his deeds, both real and imagined.  Our end has been achieved, what reason could we have not to disband and return to the lives we once lived?”

There was silence in the car as the Sisters mulled her words over.

“But,” Marzia said in a soft voice. “The Void is always still there.  We will always have to fight it, right?”

“Are we blaming magic on the Void or the Outsider?” Bernice pointed out.  “We’re blaming the Outsider, and he does not deserve it.  Don’t get me wrong, I hate witches and runes and bonecharms.  There is so much harm I have seen in the magic practiced in the Isles.  But talk at least five minutes with the Outsider and tell me to my face that you think he actively seeks to cause harm.”

Hope looked very much taken aback by the words, and seemed to retreat in to a pensive state.  Marzia wavered, hesitating before she spoke again.

“But, he has Wandering Hands! He stole Solokov’s bird to give it to the Empress!”

“Yes, because he’s an idiot in love,” Greta replied. “Should he have done that? No, not at all. Emily was not happy to learn her gift was stolen, particularly from her old tutor who paid good coin to get the little thing.  But he’s not going to do it again.”

Sister Reilly cleared her throat, a worried look on her face. “Speaking of Empress Emily, are you truly certain that she is alright?”

“Oh, she is most certainly alright,” answered Bernice with certainty.

“How do you know that?” Eileen asked skeptically, crossing her arms and frowning.

Bernice shrugged. “They have quite the chemistry.”

Hope snorted. “Brother Marshall and his hound also “have quite the chemistry”, as does Sister Delly and her mace.”

That pulled quite the laugh from everyone.  But worry still covered Sister Reilly.

“Greta, what do you know about this?”

The car turned silent as all waited for her answer.  Greta sat up straight, and tried to keep herself from fiddling with her belt.

“The Outsider certainly developed feelings for Emily before Emily did.  He even came to me to ask for help in wooing her properly.”

Eileen and Bernice promptly began to cackle. “Poor sod, going to you for help!” Eileen declared.

Greta rolled her eyes and waited for the guffaws to calm down. “Anyway, Emily also came to me to talk about her feelings after he basically avoided her for a week after taking my terrible advice and she was certainly interested in a relationship with him.  In my opinion at the time I thought they would be better friends than lovers, but tonight has _certainly_ shattered that belief.  In any case, they discussed their desire for a relationship, and the Outsider is courting our Empress at her request.”

As if on cue the railcar jerked to a stop in front of the Tower.  The Sisters looked at each other, then at Sister Mary. The eldest Sister inhaled, and got to her feet.

“Let us at least talk to the Royal Protector and verify that Emily is, in fact, in the Tower and safe.”

Greta nodded sternly alongside her Sisters. If Emily wasn’t safe, she was more than happy to fight.

***

 Corvo was somewhat startled to see the seven sisters exiting the railcar without Emily.  His stomach dropped as he looked at their faces- not a single one was free of worry.

“Where’s Emily?” he demanded, unable to keep his voice free of concern.

Greta winced at his words. “We are hoping she is in her rooms.”

“What do you mean _hoping_?”

“We encountered her beau at the Boiled Mermaid and they left together,” the older Sister Mary replied calmly.

“Completely plastered and hornier than a brace of hares in the springtime,” added short-haired Bernice. 

That comment earned her several cries of dismay from her Sisters and a few smacks from Greta and burly Hope.

“You did not stop them from leaving?” his voice was hushed with disbelief and upset.

“Have you tried grabbing something that was dematerializing?” retorted tiny Eileen with a hiss, her eyes darting around. 

Corvo sighed. “Are you sure they returned here?”

“Will you accept mostly certain?” offered wispy Sister Reilly. 

“Look just lead us to her rooms so we can assess whether or not we need to punch the Outsider’s lights out,” Hope punctuated that remark with a fist to her palm.

Corvo tried and failed to hide a smile at that sentiment. He turned and beckoned them with a gesture of his head.

Like a gaggle of geese the Sisters followed him up the stairs and down the halls to Emily’s rooms.  He could not hear anything from the hall, and the women flocked behind him, holding their hands to their chests like frightened old biddies.  Corvo reached down and tried the door knob.

It would not budge, it was locked.  So he knocked.

“Emily? Are you in there?”

There was a muffled noise of response to his query.  It was not a definite, but it was not unlike previous times with Wyman.  At least he could tail Wyman.

“Oh she’s in there, and so is he.”

Corvo looked over at the Sisters, and did a double take when he saw their eyes glowing like candlelight, and light peeking through the clenched fist of their right hand.  Very quickly, however, those lights were extinguished.

“Knock again and ask her if she is alright,” requested Marzia sweetly, concerned.

More than a little unnerved by the Sisters, Corvo knocked on the door.

“Emily are you alright?”

After a minute, the group outside of the door could hear a faint reply in the same tone as an angry yell.

“I AM BUSY!” Emily replied. “COME BACK LATER!”

Corvo sighed. “Yes, she is fine, you all can stop worrying.”

Greta looked relieved, but the rest still appeared to be rather unsettled.

“Will it be alright if we return tomorrow morning to see if she is alright?” Sister Reilly requested gently.

“and so we can assess if we need to introduce the Outsider to our maces,” Hope added, her words accompanied by eager nodding from Marzia and Eileen.

“You are certainly welcome to return,” Corvo said. “We shall see each other tomorrow morning then.”

Sister Mary smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you very much for easing our minds.  Now, we shall take our leave.”

Corvo nodded, and she ushered her younger Sisters out of the Tower.   He sighed as he watched them leave. 

Might as well go to his quarters and get some rest.  The morning was bound to be very interesting. 


	28. Chapter 27: Rat's Out of the Bag

Chapter 27: Rat’s Out of the Bag.

Emily woke up to the sound of alarm ringing.  She groaned as each tinny note pounded into her head.  Without opening her eyes she tried to reach for it, only to hit bare mattress.   Determined to make the incessant noise stop, she crawled out from the safety of the covers.  Her muscles burned and ached as she finally reached her nightstand, grabbing blindly for the damn alarm clock.

“Looking for this?”

Emily opened her bleary eyes to see Billie standing by the bed, one hand holding the clock aloft, the other on her hip.  A half second later Emily realized she was entirely naked. 

With yelp she fled back to the safety of the covers only to overestimate the distance and fall right off the bed.  Her landing was softened, however, by a pile of pillows, covers, and the Outsider.

He made a sudden pained noise as Emily landed on him, his black eyes shooting open and immediately propping himself up on his elbow.   She immediately seized the remaining sheets off the mattress to cover herself, her cheeks burning.  The Outsider looked at her curiously, his short hair a mess and his neck dotted with a series of dark bruises. Billie’s heels clicked as she walked from the other side of the bed, the alarm finally shut off.   She stood at the foot of the bed, arms akimbo.

“Looks like you both had fun last night,” she said dryly, reaching into her pocket.  Billie pulled out a newspaper and tossed it to them, landing in Emily’s lap with a smack. “Make yourself presentable, the Sisters want to talk to you.”

Emily picked up the paper and groaned as she read the sleazy headline: “EMPRESS SPOTTED WITH NEW BEAU.”  Underneath were two illustrations, one of her and Corvo leading the Outsider out of the Boyles, and another of her and the Outsider in a passionate embrace outside the Boiled Mermaid with Greta and her Sisters looking on, their astonished expressions lovingly rendered.  The Outsider leaned forward and placed his chin on her shoulder.

“Who is this witch-cursed nobody?”  he quoted, sounding somewhat amused. “The common story seems to be that he is an opportunistic Karnacan who accompanied our Empress on her journey to retake the throne- perhaps their affair started then, or did she turn to him after learning Wyman Fitzpatrick abandoned her for Lucy King?”

Emily closed the newspaper with a huff.  “How did this happen?”

The Outsider sat up, allowing for her to turn around and face him.  His dark eyes were fastened to her face, and he looked rather ashamed.

“I was not being careful, and I am sorry to have put you in this position.”  

Emily was taken aback by his guilt and regret.  She reached out and caressed his face; he leaned into the touch, his face a combination of remorse and affection. 

“Something else is bothering you,” she murmured as she entwined her fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck.   There was a beat of silence before he spoke, his voice hushed and brittle.

“What do you remember about last night?”

Worry flooded through Emily.  “I know that I personally enjoyed myself, but if I pushed you do to anything that you did not want to do, I am so, so sorry.”

He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand, taking in into his hands.  Relief was evident on the Outsider’s face, but he still looked concerned. 

“You did not push me to do anything, I participated happily and willingly,” he gently traced the Mark on the back of hand while looking into her eyes.  “Are you sure that _I_ did not push _you_?”

Emily smiled at him and kissed him on the nose. “I am _certain_.”

The Outsider returned the smile, warm with gratitude, and placed his forehead on hers.  Emily happily accepted the affection before sitting up straight.

“In any case,” she said, her smile turning into a wicked grin. “I have a list of things for us to do when we aren’t completely smashed.”

His smile turned equally wicked, and Emily was strongly tempted to try some of those aforementioned things right then and there.   Such thoughts, however, were banished by an angry pounding at the door.

She shot to her feet, grabbing a nearby bathrobe and pulling it on.  After checking that the belt was secure, she opened the door.  Outside stood Corvo and Billie, with Eulalia perched on Corvo’s shoulder.

“How is getting dressed coming along?” Corvo asked, his voice as dry as a desert.

“It’s coming along,” she assured with a nod.

“Good,” he replied, an eyebrow raised.

“Make sure that you wear something with a high collar,” added Billie.

Emily blushed, but nodded. “Alright, just give me ten more minutes.”

The two nodded slowly, and Emily closed the door, rushing off to get dressed.

***

“So, this is happening,” Corvo muttered aloud, leaning on the wall outside of Emily’s door, staring ahead.

“Did you think it was not going to happen?” countered Billie with a drawl.

Eulalia warbled on his shoulder, coaxing a smile from Corvo.  He should have guessed that something was up when the little bird began to follow him around early last evening.

“A man lives in hope,” Corvo replied.

 Billie scoffed. He could practically hear her eyes rolling. “The Empress is twenty six years old. Old enough to make her own mistakes.”

“So you agree this is mistake?” he returned wryly. 

The Spymaster actually laughed. “We’ll see.”

A few minutes later Emily emerged, straightening her jacket. 

“You said the Sisters wanted to talk to me?” she asked.

“Yes,” answered Billie as they began to walk down the hall. “I put them in the music room.”

“They arrived to the tower last night in quite a state,” Corvo added. “They would not leave until I was able to assure them you were safely in your room.”

Emily winced.  “That was certainly kind of them,” she murmured.

“They are wonderful friends,” Billie said placidly. 

The continued down to the music room in silence.  They came to a stop outside its doors.  Emily took a deep breath, and then walked in.

Corvo took his place outside of the door.  The conversation inside was not for him.

***

A sigh of relief exited Greta’s mouth as Emily walked in.  Hope and Marzia shot up from their chairs and ran over to the Empress.  Eileen stopped plucking at the harp; everyone else remained in their seats.  Surprised, Emily accepted Marzia and Hopes embraces, with Hope lifting the other two off the ground.

“Oh gosh!” Emily exclaimed, while Marzia just laughed. Hope put them down with a smile.

“I really must have scared you,” Emily said, embarrassed.

The two Sisters grimaced.  “Well, we certainly were worried about you,” Marzia offered diplomatically.

Greta decided to speak up.  “Come Empress, take a seat,” she gestured to an empty chair beside hers. “I’ve made you some tea, and ask for a selection of scones to be brought up from the kitchen.”

Just after she mentioned the scones Emily’s stomach growled.  Greta laughed, as did Emily and her Sisters. 

“Thank you Greta,” she said warmly, and took the offered seat and tea.  Marzia and Hope both sat down, everyone regarding Emily.

“So,” Sister Mary started. “We all talked it over, and have come to the conclusion that we will support your relationship with the Outsider.”

Emily promptly choked on her tea.  Greta leaned over and patted her on the back as she coughed, finally clearing her throat.  She looked up at Greta, a betrayed look on her face.

“You told them?” she accused, hurt.

“No!” Greta replied. “Bernice did.”

Emily whipped around to glare at the blind Sister, who seemed to sense the hostility and just shrugged.

“Nobody took me seriously, so I thought nothing of it,” Bernice admitted.

“You literally described him as, and I quote, ‘the owner of the cock that Heather told her to go suck’,” Eileen said. “That does not ask me to take your hint seriously.”

Emily’s face went white and she slumped back into her chair.  She placed her teacup on the table beside her, turning to Greta.

“Please tell me that I did not tell the entire pub that I was going to suck the Outsider’s cock,” muttered Emily, pained.

 “Oh no, you did,” Greta replied in a snappy deadpan.   Emily winced, sucking in air between her clenched teeth.

“You also said, and I quote, ‘I will enjoy every second of it’,” added Hope.

There was a beat of silence as Emily put her hands over her face and groaned in mortification

“Well, did you?” asked Marzia with innocent concern.

“Marzia!” Greta choked. 

Emily actually perked up. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

Greta immediately covered her ears. “Can we please not talk about this stuff right now?”

“But are we not here to assess that Empress Emily is indeed in a pleasant consensual relationship?” Sister Reilly questioned, confused.

“We are, Greta just gets grossed out about sex,” interrupted Eileen, taking a pointed sip of tea. 

“Well, we won’t talk about it if it upsets her,” Emily said soothingly, shooting her a warm smile. 

Greta smiled back gratefully, and uncovered her ears.  Sister Mary cleared her throat.

“On the matter of us knowing the Outsider’s identity, I believe the ball dropped for most of us when he commented that it had been four thousand years since he had a sex drive.”

Emily barked a short laughed. “It sure explained a thing or two.”

“Wait a moment,” Hope held her hands up, pointer fingers aloft. “How did you know he was the Outsider Sister Mary?”

She took a long, thoughtful sip of her tea.  “Well, one does not see a young man whose eyes are as black as a starless night and think him merely Void-touched.”

There was another long-suffering groan from Emily. “He was not wearing his glasses last night was he?”

Greta leaned over and patted her on the shoulder.  Sister Mary took another long sip from the teacup.

“I would not be so concerned about that,” the Sister soothed. “He had woven quite the illusionary spell that fools anyone not trained to look beyond such things.” 

Emily just nodded and sipped her tea.  There was a knock on the door, and Greta sprung to her feet to open it.  A maid entered with a tray of scones and condiments and sent them down on the low table near Eileen and Bernice.   Everyone nodded in thanks, and the maid quickly took her leave.  When the door closed Sister Reilly began to speak.

“Is there any way for you to bring the Outsider here for us to meet?” she inquired gently.  “I feel rather uneasy endorsing this relationship without knowing what sort of person he truly is.”

Greta pulled a face. “One does not call upon the Outsider, he just decides to grace you with his presence.”

All eyes went to Emily as she walked over to the scones and helped herself to a strawberry one with a dollop of clotted cream.

“Greta speaks the truth,” she said as she returned to her chair.  “He more or less decides to show up to a place whenever it strikes his fancy.  I have never been able to successfully call him to my side.”

A thoughtful look bloomed on Hope’s face. “Greta, Sister Mary, have you read anything that talks about successfully summoning the Outsider?”

“Oh, now there’s an idea!” Sister Mary remarked as she adjusted herself in the chair. “Most everything that I have read swears that it can bring the Outsider to you, but they are all obscene rituals that have a small chance of success and are remarkably ridiculous.”

Greta combed through her mind as well, trying to remember anything about summoning the Outsider.  So far it was as Sister Mary said- all gruesome rituals that produce no results.  But perhaps it was less about summoning, and more about calling.  She thought back to Emily’s birthday, and the song Elanor sang.  

“I’ve got it!” she slapped her knee in excitement. 

“You do?” Bernice drawled.   Greta rolled her eyes before eagerly turning to Eileen.

“Eileen, do you remember the book of old songs that we found?”

The little woman immediately brightened. “The one with the transcriptions of ancient music notes?”

“Yes!” Greta exclaimed with a clap. “That one!  Do you remember any of the songs?”

Eileen grimaced, sucking air through her teeth.  That did not bode well.

“You’re going to summon the Outsider with music?” Hope said skeptically.

“It cannot hurt to try,” Marzia defended sweetly, a keen look on her face. “If it fails at least it will be a lovely time.”

“That is if I remember the notes,” Eileen cautioned. “And Greta the lyrics.”

“Just play what you remember,” Greta encouraged, filled with confidence. “I am sure I will remember the lyrics.”

Eileen gave her a doubtful look. “If you insist.”   She positioned herself at the harp, and began hesitantly plucking out the notes. Greta felt her smile grow more and more and began bouncing up in down in her chair in excitement.

“That’s it!” she cried. “Keep playing it!”

Eileen nodded, and began to play with certainty.  Emily leaned forward in her seat, a look of wonder on her face.  Greta waited until the melody looped back to start singing.

“Hoo-sun zei-is, fai new

 me-de holos syn lie pou”

Just as she finished singing the second verse and was about to start the second she felt her tongue freeze in her mouth.  Moments later, the Outsider appeared in the room with an incredibly vexed look on his face.  Eileen stopped playing the harp in surprise.

 “Please, Greta, do me a favor and _never_ sing that song again,” he begged, sounding rather pained.

“Well I thought that Greta had a lovely voice,” spoke up Emily, scone finished and a defiant look on her face.   The Outsider huffed.

“It is not that Greta sang terribly, per say, it is that she utterly mangled each word,” Greta felt her tongue return to normal as he walked over to Eileen at the harp.  “Eileen was at least close in the melody.”

 Bernice clapped her hands in brief applause. “In any case, we have found a way to summon you.”

The Outsider looked genuinely offended. “I cannot be summoned.”

Emily stood up and put her hands on his shoulders, turning him to face her. “I, at least, need a reliable way to call upon you, and you did come when this song was sung. Humor me in this.”

He smiled softly at her. “Only if I can show you how to sing it properly.”

Greta watch Marzia promptly melt, practically cooing at the two, who politely ignored her.  Eileen regarded the two with a touch of impatience, clearly waiting to see if her skills were needed.

Emily adopted a regal pose, removing her hands from his shoulders and smoothing her expression, but a smile snuck onto her face anyhow. “I accept your offer.”

The smile on his face turned mischievous and he bowed before turning to Eileen.  Emily’s smile grew at the bow and she folded her hands, affection just flowing from her.   

“Eileen, can you please play the melody again?” the Outsider asked politely.  Eileen actually looked surprised, but started playing again, this time an octave below.  Like Greta, he waited for Eileen to finish playing the melody once before he started to sing.

_“Hóson zêis phaínou_

_mēdén hólōs sy lypoû_

_pros olígon estí to zên_

_to télos ho chrónos apaiteî_ ”    

His voice was not what Greta would call remarkable, but there was a captivating sweetness to it, and a surety behind each word that only a native speaker would possess. He turned to Emily as he finished the last verse; Eileen kept playing.

“Now you give it a try,” he bid, his arm outstretched as if welcoming her in a room.

Emily took a breath and sung.  Her voice was only just serviceable, but the words were clear and she could carry the tune.  The Outsider listened to her, his head tilted rather endearingly.  When she finished singing, Eileen stopped playing.

“Not too bad, especially for the first try,” he commented warmly. “If you sing this, I will come to you.”

Emily smiled.  She was about to respond when Greta got to her feet and took her by the hand, surprising her enough to silence her. 

“Sorry, now that we have him here the two of us must leave,” Greta said apologetically.  Understanding immediately crossed Emily’s face.  She turned back to the Outsider and quickly kissed his cheek.

“Humor the Sisters please,” she requested with a quirked smile. 

A wary look bloomed on his face, but he nodded. 

Emily turned on her heel, Greta’s hand still in hers, and the two left the music room, the door clicking as it closed behind them.  Corvo looked at them, his curiosity poorly hidden.  Greta let go of Emily’s hand.  Eulalia let out a happy chirp and fluttered over to Emily, who cheerfully pet the little blue bird with her newly free hand.

“The Sisters wish to interview the Outsider,” Emily answered the unasked question.  “In the meantime, I am going to tackle MP Emerson’s proposed tax code.”

Corvo’s gaze turned to Greta.  “And you?”

The Sister grinned. “I am going to be recounting past tax codes for comparison.”

He laughed at that, and the three went upstairs to the office.

***

The Outsider knew that this was coming.  It was the sort of thing any person with enough sense could predict- he just had the extra, dubious benefit of the Void shoving said information into his face while he dreamt. 

“Please,” invited Sister Mary warmly. “Help yourself to some scones and tea, and have a seat.”

The scones looked tempting, but it was perhaps best not to eat in front of this particular tribunal.  Tea, however, was safe.  So he helped himself to a cup and took an empty chair.  The Sisters watched him attentively, all sitting properly, hands folded.  Sister Mary took a small notebook from a pocket and flipped it open.

“I would like to start with a note of clarification,” she said. “When you were made into the Outsider, you were only fifteen years old, correct?”

Bernice choked on her tea mid-sip, drenching her face and staining her clothes.   Hope also looked taken aback, and leaned forward, her eyes narrowed.

“Sister Mary, assuming the Outsider looks like he did when he was,” she waved a hand. “… created, there is no way he was fifteen.  He had to at least be twenty.”

 “Was life not hard back then?” retorted Sister Mary with such syrupy innocence that the Outsider chuckled into his cup of tea.  “Stress as a way of aging a person.”

“No, I’m with Hope on this,” Eileen interjected, holding up a finger. “There is nothing about his physical being that indicates that he is fifteen.”

The Outsider cleared his throat. “To cut this pointless argument short, yes I was fifteen when I was sacrificed to become what I am now.  Whether or not I look my age is moot because I have existed for over four thousand years, so I would like to think that I have matured a bit since then.”

The Sisters blinked.  Eileen lowered her hand, looking rather sheepish.  Hope looked him up and down, incredulous.  Bernice raised her eyebrows and sipped the rest of her tea, while Sister Mary simply wrote in her notebook.   Sister Reilly broke the silence.

“So Outsider, what attracted you to our Empress in the first place?”  

The wisp of a woman forcibly reminded him of the kind potter’s wife who would give him clothes her children had outgrown, and let him nap in her garden.  Immediately he was fond of her. 

“I have long been interested in how people have wielded power over others,” he replied frankly.  “Emily first came to my attention simply due to her position as Empress.  In how she handed Delilah’s coup,” he fiddled with the empty teacup, thoughtful. “she showed true compassion and intelligence that few rulers display.  And after I was expelled from the Void, she offered me food and shelter.”

“So you are attracted to Emily because of her compassion?” asked Marzia, her expression open and inquisitive. 

“That is certainly part of it,” the Outsider could not help smiling a little. “I enjoy talking to her.  She is very clever and has a drive to be a better ruler.”

“She is also remarkably beautiful,” added Hope matter-of-factly, a quirked smile on her face.

“She is indeed,” he agreed.   Eileen rolled her eyes, earning a stern look from Sister Reilly.   She ignored the look, and spoke to the Outsider.

“How do you feel when Emily does not follow your advice?”

“I’m not in charge of her,” he answered, somewhat irritated at Eileen’s presumption. “If I think she is in danger of making a terrible mistake I will counsel her, and if she commits to a path I do not agree with then I will not interfere.”

“So you will not try to stop her if you do not agree?” Bernice sounded surprised. “Even if you think it is terrible and dangerous?”

The Outsider shrugged.  “It is not my place. I do not rule the Isles nor do I want to. I know my knowledge and advice has value and I like offering it to Emily so long as she wants it,” he sucked on his teeth as he thought for moment. “I will likely interfere if not following my advice does threaten her life.”

The sound of a pencil scratching on paper as Sister Mary wrote in her notebook.  Marzia was whispering in Sister Reilly’s ear- he could make out the words if he wanted to, but decided against it.  He was finding it to be more interesting to not have all the answers.  Marzia stopped whispering and pulled away, watching him with large dark eyes.  Sister Reilly cleared her throat.

“What are your intentions regarding this relationship?” 

Intentions… must one have an intention in a relationship other than to be with a person and make them happy?   Perhaps what she was asking is if this was something casual, like between uncertain youths or careless adults.  It was certainly not that, but he would hesitate to call it serious.  After all, it has barely been more than two weeks since Emily asked him to court her.  There was plenty of time for her to decide that he was not what she wanted.    What a painful thought that was indeed! 

“Hellllo?” Eileen snapping her fingers jolted him out of his thoughts.  “Did you hear Sister Reilly’s question?”

“Yes I did,” he replied absently.  The Outsider looked Sister Reilly in the eyes, who returned the gaze with kind patience. “As for what I intend, I want to make Emily happy. I want to be with her so long as she will have me.”

Marzia and Bernice audibly cooed at his response, visibly charmed.  Hope looked satisfied with that answer, as did Eileen.  Sister Mary did not look up from her notebook, she just continued writing.

“Well Sister Reilly,” she said, pencil scratching against the paper. “Are you satisfied with the potential health of this relationship?”

Sister Reilly broke eye contact with him to smile warmly at the older Sister. “I am.”

“Excellent,” she closed her notebook with soft clap.  “Thank you for humoring us.  I wish you and Emily the best.  I promise that knowledge of your relationship will not leave this circle.”

The Sisters nodded and murmured in assent, Bernice and Hope giving him thumbs up and Eileen nodding enthusiastically.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she added, her tone chilling significantly. “If we get any indication that you are manipulating or abusing Emily, we will find a way to unmake you. Understand?”

The Outsider swallowed his offense at the implication and nodded.  It was a perfectly reasonable threat, one he should have expected.

“Good,” Hope remarked, staring him down. The other Sisters also gave him stern looks. They were surprisingly threatening, and he was filled with a sudden thankfulness they were in Emily’s corner.

“Thank you,” he said, astonishing the women. “For supporting Emily and not jumping to persecute her simply she has chosen to be with me.”

Marzia smiled brilliantly, but the rest of her sisters seemed to become sheepish at his words.  Bernice in particular looked especially awkward.

“We like Emily, and to be honest you don’t seem too bad either,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck.  “She has a good head on her shoulders and it’s not like you are actively leading her to make horrible choices. To be frank the last thing we need is yet another change in power, and it’s a major relief that you have no desire to rule or anything.”

“Just know we’ll be keeping an eye on you,” added Eileen. 

How many people were explicitly minding him at this point? He supposed it was only natural for there to be such suspicion around him.

“Alright, we all must get going,” Sister Mary said as she stood up, a warm smile on her face. “We all have quite the amount of work to do.”

Knowing he was dismissed, the Outsider stood up as well and gave the Sisters a short bow.  Perhaps he should join Emily and Greta; tax codes had rather fascinating impacts on the dynamics of power. 

Decision made, he left the music room.


	29. Chapter 28: Headstands

##  Chapter 28: Headstands

Emily left Parliament with a pounding headache.  The entire morning session was spent debating MP Emerson’s tax code.  What irked her to no end was after opening the debate by giving her opinion on the proposed tax code, the MPs did not even bother to ask her why she thought the way she did.  It was a waste of the seven page argumentative essay Greta and the Outsider practically forced her to write the day before so she would be prepared. 

In any case the whole debate was cut short when Emerson insulted Ryswell’s honor and the burly man hit his slight opponent with a bottle of pear soda, starting a brawl.  Emily, Speaker Flaherty, and Captain Otte of the City Watch spent the next thirty minutes attempting to restore order, ending with Emily seizing Captain Otte’s pistol and shooting it into the ceiling while screaming for them all to go home and only return the following day when they “could be fucking civil.”

It was a shame the Outsider had decided against coming.  He certainly would be cackling his head off at the scene.  It would be good to see him after a morning like this one.

She found him in her office, a book floating in front of his face as he performed an elegant handstand.  His brow was furrowed and he did not seem to notice her entrance. 

It had been years since Emily tried a handstand, but it couldn’t be that hard.  She got as close as she dared to the Outsider, and got on her hands.  Her muscles shook a bit, causing Emily to frown as she straightened her posture.  It had been awhile since she properly trained- something she should fix as soon as possible. 

Throughout it all the Outsider remained engrossed in his book, entitled _The Properties of Whale Oil_.  Emily could not keep her eyes from widening as he effortlessly shifted his weight to one hand and lifted up the other to turn the page. After a couple more seconds of him quietly reading Emily decided to make herself noticed.

“How is the reading?”

The book dropped to the ground with a soft thud, and when their eyes met he gave her a wide smile.

“You are back early.”

“Ryswell started a brawl,” her arms were starting to burn, but she eagerly ignored it. “I had to send them all home like children.”

The Outsider burst out laughing, his eyes closed as he delighted in the image of grown men acting like children.  “Did they really?” he said between giggles.  “I wish I chose to accompany you then, it would have been a delight to observe such a thing again.”

“Have you seen many such brawls?” she asked, curious.

“They are actually surprisingly rare,” he answered thoughtfully, though his eyes revealed his continued merriment. “Though I suppose my favorite one occurred at some long gone city on the other side of the world.  The Dowager Queen, in full ceremonial dress, took a flying elbow drop into the Diet floor and later suplexed the prime minister.” An eager look appeared on his face. “Did you fight anyone?”

“An Empress does not fight the Members of Parliament except with words,” she replied with theatrical loftiness. “No, all I did was scream at them and fire Captain Otte’s pistol into the ceiling.”

“I admire your restraint,” his tone was playful, and he tilted his head.  It was exceedingly endearing.  “The next time such a brawl happens and I am absent, please call upon me.  Nothing would delight me more than seeing you put some of those men in their place.”

Emily chuckled. “Alright, I promise.”   She felt her arms begin to tremble as they reached their limit, and her legs burn from the effort of holding them up.  With as much grace as she could Emily did a back bend and stood up.  She turned around to see the Outsider regarding her, still in a handstand. 

“How are you still like that?” Emily said as she sat down across from him, astonished.

“I used to do acrobatics as a way to beg for food and coin,” he shifted on one hand and swung his legs down while pushing up, landing in a kneeling position.  “One time a noble family paid me and several other skilled like me to hold trays on our feet for an evening.  I had bread each day from them for a month.”

“Your muscle memory must be fantastic,” she murmured, looking at him with newfound appreciation.

“It is certainly better than my actual memories,” his voice was pensive, and he traced shapes on the carpet between them.  “I have such hazy recollections of who I used to be.  Some memories are sharper than others, usually the miserable violent ones, but occasionally the happier ones will come into focus.”

“Oh,” Emily did not know quite what to say.  She brushed her fingers against his and loosely entwined their hands.  “I am sorry about that.”

The Outsider gave her a small smile. “It is alright, some memories are best forgotten.”

She gave him a warmer smile. “All the better to make room for new ones.”

He laughed and kissed her on the cheek. “Good memories too.”

They sat there for a moment, foreheads together and eyes closed.  The stillness was disturbed by their stomachs growling at the same time.  Emily giggled and brought her head up. 

“I’m going to dip down to the kitchens and have them bring us lunch up here,” she said as she got to her feet. “Want anything in particular?”

He tilted his head as he thought for a moment. “Surprise me.”

***

The Outsider happily dipped his bread into a hagfish stew as Emily complained about the perceived uselessness of offering her option to the Parliament floor.   Eulalia had finally deigned to join them after spending most the last week with Corvo.  The Outsider strongly suspected that the fussy little bird was not keen on being around a sexually active couple.

“After I concluded my speech nobody asked questions,” Emily sourly jabbed her fork into a carrot. “Nobody attempted to refute my points, to probe any assertions I made. I might as well just have said “tax code good” and things would have turned out the same.”

The Outsider waited to finish chewing his food before he responded.  Emily certainly did not like it whenever he talked with his mouth full. 

“They do not fully see your position as one of debate, Empress,” he helped himself to another roll from the basket and tore it in half. “You propose laws, and you have the final say in all laws.  The members of Parliament are not trying to persuade you to see another way, rather for their peers to see another way.”

“Then what was the point of me writing a seven page argumentative essay?”  she grumbled.  Eulalia warbled, pecking at the hunk of brown bread they had set aside for her.

“There is clarity in the mind when you can clearly articulate your stance,” the Outsider replied as he used half of the roll to scoop up some fish and celery.  “If you wanted you could even publish this essay to display your stance on the tax code.  It certainly affects enough people, and they may appreciate having your opinion far more than the members of Parliament.”

Emily hummed as he ate the roll, eating the carrot and chewing on it slowly.  

“I do like the idea of publishing my opinions on particularly important laws,” she said thoughtfully.  “What about you?”

He swallowed the mostly chewed roll and stew. “What about me?”

“You have opinions, why not share them too?”

The Outsider snorted and dipped the other half of the roll into the stew. “The Outsider speaks positively about sunlight, the Abbey declares a holy war against the sun.”  He shoved the liquid-soaked bread into his mouth.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Use the pseudonym we gave you.”

“No one is going to listen to Owen Pharmakós from Serkonos,” he grumbled around the half-chewed roll.  

Emily tilted her head. “Pharmakós?”

He swallowed the bread before he spoke.  “A social outcast chosen to be a ritual scapegoat to be sacrificed to cleanse the community in times of disaster; or what I am.”  The Outsider waved a hand, gesturing to himself. “The Abbey is unified around blaming me for the world’s ills, using me as the scapegoat for things that you know I cannot be blamed for.”

“Then it is a good last name to give yourself,” Emily agreed. “But truly, no one would listen to you?”

“No one has a reason to,” he grabbed another roll, set on using it to get a very particular bit of fish and carrot. “I do not have any authority to back me up.”

A gleam appeared in Emily’s brown eyes, distracting him briefly from his food.  She was so very pretty.  

“Esma has invited us to soiree on the 13th of the month,” she leaned forward, prompting Eulalia to lean forward too and peep at him. “It would be a good opportunity for you to gain some supporters and with them, some authority.”

“Emily, I am not a politician,” he replied gently. “I do not feel comfortable currying favor from people.”

“Not even if it is for a good cause?” she pressed, eyebrow raised. “I know you are looking for a way to break us away from whaling.  I know you have been the main reason whaling ships no longer pull into Dunwall at night.”

The cover of darkness did make freeing and branding whales with his Mark so much easier.  It also kept panic and chaos to a minimum.  It was a shame the whalers had wised up on this tactic.

“The soiree is to celebrate Dr. Galvani’s appointment as Head of the Academy,” Emily continued. “It is the perfect time and place to talk about alternatives to whale oil, and the importance of preserving the whale population.”

The Outsider nervously chewed his food.  He might be able to get by talking to aristocrats, whose knowledge of such things was more likely to be unspecified and were also more likely to regard him as entertainment.  But to debate with natural philosophers, who keenly dissected facts from feelings and demanded a tangible truth?  It was honestly a lot of pressure that he was not keen on facing.  And yet, backing away from it would be cowardly.  Not to mention Emily was so very keen to see him share his mind, firmly believing in his intelligence. The thought of disappointing her left a sour taste in his mouth. 

“I will consider it,” the Outsider replied.  Emily grinned widely at him, glee shining in her eyes.

“Excellent! Let me know if I can help in some way.  I promise, natural philosophers are an easy to please bunch.  Just ask them about their research and ask questions about it.  I’ll point you to the nice ones when we arrive.”

He smiled gratefully back at her. “Thank you Emily.”

“It’s my pleasure!” she turned back to her food and they ate in silence for a bit.  A certain, no-nonsense look bloomed on Emily’s face and she put down her fork. 

“Speaking of other things that are my pleasure, I have made an appointment with the Royal Tailor to get you more clothes.”

The Outsider opened his mouth to tell her it really was not necessary and was promptly silenced when she put a finger to her lips.

“Billie came to me last week to discuss your lack of adequate clothing, something that I am embarrassed to say that I did not think much about before we talked, perhaps since I too like wearing the same things over and over.  But I have warm coats and aristocrat-acceptable evening wear, and you do not.”

She took her finger from his lips, her expression booking no argument.    

“You do not have to be the only one giving pretty things to someone you care about,” she finished, lips quirked.   Eulalia whistled and hopped onto Emily’s plate, eyeing the remaining vegetables.

The Outsider tried not to wince in embarrassment as he was reminded of his theft.  True, Emily loved Eulalia dearly and appreciated the gift.  What she did not appreciate was being the recipient of stolen goods.  In any case, he was not eager to repeat that sort of mistake.  There were better ways to procure gifts.

He smiled, half abashed and half thankful. “Thank you, truly.”

Emily made a noise of delight that was cheerfully echoed by Eulalia and brought her hands together as she leaned forward on the table.

“Excellent! Luiz should be waiting for us when we finish lunch.  Oh, I am truly glad you are open to this!”

The Outsider had a feeling that he would have been press-ganged into a wardrobe expansion no matter his opinions of the issue, but it pleased him that Emily was happier that he was open to it.

But that did not necessarily mean he was going to enjoy it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all, sorry for disappearing! I was on a long vacation, not to mention I had a wild goose chase with a plot bunny that made me hold off on uploading. Expect several chapters coming up soon, as well as a small series of extras that I want included, but don't quite fit in the chapters. Thank y'all for the support!


	30. Chapter 29: Archive

##  Chapter 29: Archive

The gray clouds were bright with suppressed sun, and wind rattled the glass roof over the cloister as it passed over, whistling.  That did not bother the group of Sisters sitting around a rickety table that bore books and a fine antique tea set.  The pot’s porcelain beauty was, however, covered up by an admittedly hideous cozy. 

“Thank you very much for inviting me to tea, Sister Alice,” thanked Greta as the old woman served her tea. 

“Oh it is something long overdue, my dear,” Sister Alice declared with a large smile. “You, after all, are following in my footsteps through dear Mary.”

“And there is nothing more than we old ladies love more than some company from our younger sisters,” added Sister Elpis with a smile. 

Sister Hedwig hummed in agreement behind her tea.  Sister Alice put down the tea pot and folded her hands, looking keenly at Greta.

“So, how are you finding the position?” she asked.

“It is a surprising amount of work,” Greta replied, adding sugar to her tea.  “I originally thought that I would simply have to read up on the occult, occasionally offer my advice and simply make sure every item in the archive is in the right place. I did not realize that I would also be processing new items and updating catalogues.”

“Oh yes,” Sister Alice nodded wisely. “One would think that managing such a restricted collection would simply mean growing personal expertise and occasionally dusting the items;  even more rarely being asked to offer you expert opinion on countering the evils of the Outsider.  But the world is vast and strange, and sometimes it is best to have examples of the occult rather than purge all remnants of it from the earth.”

“Delilah’s activities certainly added to the collection,” Sister Hedwig said. “Though I do believe that Sister Mary was the one to archive them.”

“Yes she was,” Greta took a sip from her cup.  “She expressly asked me to bring “unique items” back to the Chapel, and I obtained items I had judged worthy of our archive.  I take it that you have seen them?”

The three old women exchanged looks.

“But of course we have!”  Sister Elpis declared.  “Why, after you all returned with the lot we old biddies were chomping at the bit to see things that belonged to such a fearsome witch!”

 “And, a good painter,” added Sister Hedwig.

“It was quite the collection, and her plan was so devious!” Sister Alice all but gushed.  “Fortunately it was easy enough to sabotage.  Thank goodness for such a reliance on balanced runes!”

Greta laughed nervously, thinking back on how the sabotage worked out in the end.  She tried not to think about the hole in her memory around the construction of the corrupted rune. It was unsettling to be reminded of how unreliable the mind could be. 

Not to mention that the Outsider walked among them quite literally.  Granted he was a rather decent creature that inspired terrible magic that he did not want to inspire.  But it was not like many people were taking the time to get to know the god of the Void. 

“Say, Greta dear,” She hummed and turned to Sister Elpis. “Is Bernice one of your companions?”

She nodded.  “Yes she is.  Is she directly in your line of mentorship?”

Sister Elpis sighed wistfully. “Yes, but she has been so busy now a days that she rarely comes to tea anymore.”

Sister Hedwig raised her bushy eyebrows, still a shocking dark grey as compared to her snow-white hair.  “Why not ask any of your other children and grandchildren to tea?”

Sister Elpis waved her hand. “None have the same rough charm as Bernice, all of them are too well-bred.  Dear Lena is the only one who comes close, but sadly she is leaving us by the end of this month.”

That caught everyone’s attention. Sister Alice set down her cup, jaw slack.

“Lena is leaving? Why?”

“The High Oracle is sending her to Serkonos,” Sister Elpis replied while stirring her tea, a morose expression on her wrinkled face. “Apparently the Order there has been somewhat odd ever since the defeat of Delilah.”

“Yes, I’ve heard,” Greta said, leaning forward.  “Her lieutenant Brianna Ashworth was manipulating their visions.  I know the Order there has been cleaning the Conservatory.  But I thought the oddness was over?”

 “So did we,” Sister Hedwig spoke up, a grave look on her face. “We received a letter from Sister Alguirre last week requesting for Sisters from Morley, Tyvia, and Grisol to watch each Chapel, as they have been having strange visions as of late, and many Sisters have complained of memory loss.  I am surprised you weren’t aware of this Alice.”

Sister Alice looked bewildered and shook her head. “I was certainly not informed of this letter. Strange visions are part of who we are, but memory loss?  That is new. What do you think Greta?”

Greta took a sip of tea, attempting to soothe suddenly rising nerves. “Perhaps the Sisters have been overexposed to runes or especially malignant bonecharms?”

Sister Elpis hummed, and the other two looked very thoughtful.

“That sounds like a very possible cause,” Sister Alice remarked, while Sister Hedwig nodded wisely. “I would blame the use of the Oraculum on the memory loss and strange visions, but the exposure to particularly malevolent runes and bonecharms is a good thought.”

The old women suddenly perked up and turned to Greta with sudden intensity. “Were you aware that the corpses of our Sisters, bound to that horrible Oraculum, have been uttering prophecy?”

Greta’s jaw dropped. “But, how? Are they not naught but bones and rags? How can they speak?”

“Oh dear, you should know as well as the rest of us that the Oracular Order has always danced much closer to magic than the rest of the Abbey is ever aware of,” Sister Hedwig said gently. “When I dream I can hear the voices of my dead Sisters, my mentors and peers, all offering me advice and visions of things as they are.  When I meditate they often guide me, and they wait patiently for me to join them. Perhaps because you are young and not known to the dead that you do not hear their voices.  But you will one day.”

Greta offered a weak smile and a nod. But she was not certain about it.  Prophecy and dreams were not her strong suit, in fact her lack of them nearly prevented her from being able to join the Order.  But the High Oracle intervened on her behalf, something that she would never forget. Her inability was rather well-known among the elderly Sisters.  

“I did not get my first whispers from my Sisters until I retired to maintaining the banned book collection,” Sister Alice offered kindly, noticing Greta’s doubt.  “Being around such dark materials taints even the best of prophecies; it is best that you do not have them until you are freed from that task.  Ever does the Outsider seek to infiltrate our lives in the guise of being our friend.”

Greta took a long sip of tea as she tried not to show her amusement at the last sentence.  It was so far from the truth as she knew it.  The Outsider was not duplicitous, and certainly was not the evil-seeking chaos-causer she was taught he was.  Though Greta wondered if they were friends; perhaps they were.  Does giving terrible courting advice count as friendship?

“There she is High Overseer.”

Everyone turned their heads to see Bernice guiding the High Overseer to their tea table.  Greta put down her cup, both curious and wary.

“Good afternoon High Overseer,” Sister Elpis greeted as he came to a stop before them, his hands folded behind his back. “What brings you to our company?”

“I was looking for Sister Manderly,” Chopin replied with a smile. “I wished to explore the occult archives a bit, as I believe it has some remarkable sources on the construction of runes and bonecharms.”

Greta turned to the old Sisters. “Will it be alright if I go help the High Overseer now?”

The three waved her off. “Of course you may,” declared Sister Hedwig graciously.  “We do have a lovely replacement here in the form of dear Bernice.”

Bernice suddenly stood very still, something that caught Sister Elpis’ keen eyes.

“Do humor us, child,” she called out.  “It has been far too long since we chatted.”

“And since you deprived us of Greta’s fine company, it is only fair that you give us yours,” added Sister Alice

“Oh alright,” Bernice sighed, her voice one of amused defeat.  Greta laughed and finished her tea before standing, freeing the chair for Bernice.  She walked over to Chopin, who was patiently waiting.

“If you would just follow me,” Greta invited with a gesture. 

The archive was on the other side of the Chapel, imbedded within the massive library.  Chopin was almost unnervingly quiet, his footsteps strangely muffled, even on the stone floors.  Edna looked up at them from behind her circulation desk, peering at them from behind her glasses as they headed toward the dim shelves, illuminated by Walls of Light. 

“Are you just looking for texts, or are you interested in specimens as well?”  Greta offered, directed him to a table, tucked off in the corner. 

The High Overseer blinked, his eyes appearing to glow blue in the low light.  “Specimens?”

“This chapel has the largest collection of bonecharms in all of the Empire,” Greta explained. “Of course, we can destroy them if that is your wish.”

Chopin held up his hand and shook his head, offering a smile. “That would not be necessary, but I would very much like to see the collection.”

“No problem, you will just need to follow me,” Greta walked towards a sturdy metal door and pulled out a key, unlocking it. Immediately she flicked a switch, turning the lights on with a hum. The yellow light revealed numerous cabinets, multiple tables, and many shelves, all filled to the brim with objects, several ancient, others brand new, all occult. 

“Welcome to Storage,” Greta proclaimed with a flourish.  Chopin looked around and let out a low whistle, impressed.

“Your Chapel has an impressive collection,” he declared. “I never thought anyone would be able to best the collection of the Order of Dabokva, yet once again Dunwall proclaims its dominance.”

“Thank our foundress,” Greta pointed to an oil portrait of a snub-nosed, grey-haired Sister, a hand pointing to the strictures while runes and bonecharms lay under her feet, crushed. “Sister Matilda saw the value in saving the old texts to study them, allowing us more ways to save the misguided.  Now, have a seat at that table while I pull out the inventory binder.”

She walked over the bonecharm bureau, which had its inventory binder resting atop it.  As she walked close to it she could hear the collective song of the bonecharms, a thin, unnerving reverberation.  Usually she could feel warmth flowing from the bureau as well, but instead it felt like all the heat in her body was getting sucked out of her.

_Get it out_

Greta froze.  She gave her head a small shake; what on earth was that?  No matter, she reached for the binder

_Get it out_

_It drains us, it will drain you next_

_Get it out_

_It infects all that it touches, you are next_

_Get it out_

_It hears us, it hears us!_

_It is too late, it is too late. You are infected.  We cannot be saved, you cannot be saved._

“Greta? Greta!”

Sister Mary was shaking her shoulders, concern shining in her green eyes. “Are you alright?”

Greta looked around.  She was still in Storage, but now lying on the floor by the table; Chopin lingering in the background, bonecharms scattered all around her. 

“What happened?” she murmured, lost.

“Chopin fetched me, he said that you fainted when you touched a corrupted bonecharm,” Sister Mary sighed, relief still out of reach in her expression.  “Do you remember that happening?”

Greta shook her head, fear pooling in her gut.  Sister Mary looked up at Chopin, who was also worried.

“Perhaps the corruption tampered with your memory, and that is why you fainted,” he proposed, looking uncertain. 

“Could be,” Greta agreed with a murmur.  She found that she could no longer meet the High Overseer’s worried gaze.  Something about his eyes was too cold, too… inhuman.  She shook her head.  What was going on?  Perhaps the bonecharms have gotten to her.  

“In any case, I am going to send you to your room,” Sister Mary ordered, her voice that of a concerned mother. “I will take over you.  So, High Overseer, you are stuck with me.”

“So long as our Sister is alright,” he assured. “I will pray for your speedy recovery, and that it was not anything serious.”

Greta nodded in thanks absently, shifting her hand as she moved to stand.  Her fingers brushed against a fallen charm, and she noticed immediately that it was cold and silent.


	31. Chapter 30: Soirée

##  Chapter 30: Soirée

A light rain made itself heard against the metal and glass of the railcar, tempting Corvo to soften his mind and stare mindlessly out into the street.  Instead, he watched from the other side of the railcar as Emily and the Outsider held an intense conversation of whispers, their heads close together.  The Outsider held a small stack of index cards, covered with close writing.  Emily occasionally pointed at some word and whispered something, prompting the Outsider to nod and whisper back.   He wondered what exactly the two were discussing.  Perhaps it had to do with whale oil; that was the most likely answer.  After all, the soiree they were attending was ostensibly centered on natural philosophy. 

The car came to a stop, signaling their arrival.  The Outsider shuffled the cards and immediately stowed them in his pocket, a nervous look on his face, clear behind his dark glasses.  Emily took his spare hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  Corvo wondered why the deity was so nervous; surely he has observed enough parties that he had a good handle on the etiquette?

Eulalia finally stirred from her brief slumber on Emily’s shoulder, warbling cheerfully. At that Corvo opened the door and was the first out, followed by Emily, then the Outsider.  Nothing was out of the ordinary as they entered the Boyle mansion, and were eagerly greeted by the hostess.

“Welcome Royal Protector Attano, Empress Emily!” Esma cooed.  “And you brought your beau! Though I do not believe we have been properly introduced.”

 Emily smiled politely.  “Lady Esma Boyle, this is Owen Pharmakós.  Owen, Lady Esma Boyle.”

“Esma!” chirped Eulalia, fluffing up a bit.

Esma offered her hand to the Outsider, who took it and in a bow briefly kissed it. “Your hospitality is most generous and I am honored to be your guest.”

This prompted Esma to titter and look rather knowingly at Emily, who received the gaze with a somewhat strained smile.   Corvo wondered if the Outsider was aware of Esma’s particularly positive regard of him. 

“Come, come,” Esma said to Emily after introductions were finished.  “There are many guests who are eager to meet your Owen.”  Then she took Emily’s arm and lead her deeper into the mansion.

The Outsider’s face immediately went from politely blank to noticeably terrified.  Corvo frowned at him as stuck as close as possible to his side.

“Why are you so nervous?” he could not help asking, his voice hushed as they followed the two women.

“Because everything I say or do will reflect on Emily,” the Outsider hissed back, nerves evident in his tone of voice. “I do not have any room for error, and the more people are interested in me, the more there are chances for my manners to slip up.”

“I am pleased that you are concerned about Emily’s reputation, but I am certain you should be fine,” Corvo replied, trying to ease the anxious deity.  “Have you not observed many such parties?”

The Outsider snorted. “I do not observe parties that go well or are bastions of impeccable manners.  To be quite frank I rarely can distinguish good manners from bad as there is such variation across time and space that they all blend together.  Not to mention the last time I was invited to a party it was so I could be furniture.”

Corvo did not know how to respond to that.

They arrived to the lovely parlor just after Esma pulled Emily in.  Corvo’s eyes immediately caught Solokov’s, but Solokov immediately focused on the Outsider, who was busy trying to figure out the most dignified way he could hide behind Corvo.  Esma cut that attempt short by releasing Emily and taking the Outsider’s arm, bringing him into the spotlight.  Every eye in the room was upon him.  From what Corvo could tell, the entire guest list was in the room.  He felt twinge of sympathy for the Outsider.

“Everyone, it is my pleasure to introduce Owen Pharmakós,” Esma announced.  “He was the fellow who was onboard the boat that appeared in my ballroom wall.”

Corvo glanced over at Emily, who looked like she wanted to slam her head into a wall multiple times.  The Outsider made no attempt to hide his discomfort, which was ignored by the bevy of natural philosophers and nobles whose eyes gleamed with curiosity and a thousand questions.

This promised to be a painful night for the Outsider.  Corvo prayed that it would not end horribly.

***

Emily wanted to strangle Esma for being so inconsiderate.  The Outsider was not some interesting specimen to show off as party entertainment.  She had half a mind to grab him and Corvo and simply march back to the Tower.

There was a tense anticipation in the room, as the men and women glanced at each other, waiting to see who would ask the first question.  Finally, someone broke the silence.

“What is it like being at the center of a ritual?” piped up a rather youthful man.

Emily swore she felt the temperature in the room drop for a second.  In the back of her mind she could sense the Outsider brush against her thoughts.  Emily opened up, and she could feel his seething upset.

“ _I do not want to talk to these people about things they do not deserve to know_ ” his words echoed.

“You do not have to,” she mentally insisted, projecting her support. “You do not owe it to them to be honest, and they will not know better.”

He withdrew, his outer countenance one of poise and calm. “Being in the center of a ritual is terrifying and traumatic,” the Outsider replied coldly. “And that is all I will say about magic and the occult.  If any of you ask me another question like that I will pretend I did not hear it. If you persist I will ignore you.  If you harass me I will report you to the Abbey.”

Esma let go of his arm like she had been shocked.  The rest of the room seemed to recoil, many gobsmacked.  It seems as if they thought he would be easy entertainment, spinning stories about the occult and witches.  Their dismay pleased Emily, and the Outsider glanced back at her, a far more confident look on his face.

“Now, are we not here to celebrate knowledge and progress?” he asked, addressing the room.  “I was told we are here to congratulate Dr. Galvani’s well-earned appointment as Head of the Academy. I would much rather discuss his accomplishments and studies than waste time describing such meaningless horrible things.”

A lean middle-aged man chuckled, and raised his glass of champagne to the Outsider. “Thank you for your kind words Mr. Pharmakós. At the risk of sounding immodest I would like to share this sentiment.  Let us focus our minds on more productive questions rather than on unreliable witchcraft.”

So that was Dr. Galvani.  Emily thought it remarkable that she had never seen the noteworthy man before, let alone met him.  In any case, she already liked him.

“Oh come now Luigi,” a bespectacled man with curly white hair rose from his chair. “What is so unproductive about attempting to understand magic?”

Solokov cleared his throat loudly, cutting off Dr. Galvani, who happily ceded the floor to him. “The unproductivity, Artemis, is not within the question but in the answer.  Mr. Pharmakós has solidly refused to entertain the topic, as is his right.  There are many horrors in the occult, particularly when attempting to summon the Outsider. We would have more luck in squeezing water from a stone.”

There was a wave of murmurs and nods, with most of the philosophers agreeing with Solokov.  However, there was a great deal of grumbling from the several of the nobles, in particular from Baron Greiss.  The Outsider folded his arms across his chest and stared at the Baron. 

“I suspect some of you came tonight, not to celebrate Dr. Galvani, but to hear about sordid magic from a low-born stranger,” he said, disdain rolling off each word. “If that is all that you came for than I suggest you leave, unless you suddenly gain an appreciation for the work of these natural philosophers.  Leave and sit in front of your shrines, praying to a creature who could not give a fig about you.”  He turned to Esma, his face polite. “If you only invited me to be entertainment, then I must disappoint.  As you are the hostess, you are free to eject me.  I will put up not fuss.”

Emily rolled her eyes and walked over to the Outsider, taking his arm. “Esma, if you were not sincere in your invitation, then I shall leave alongside Owen,” she declared, causing Esma’s eyes to widen.  The Outsider looked at her, a combination of surprise and wonder on his face.  

“Esma!” cried Eulalia. “What the fuck!”

That caused much of the room to laugh, including Solokov, Corvo, the Outsider, and even Esma.  Emily gave some reward scritches to the proud little bird, which glimmered a lovely deep blue.  Yet even in the mirth Emily noticed the positively murderous glares on the faces of Baron Griess and his companions.  The Outsider had just made some enemies, and perhaps they will also be hers.

It did not matter to her.  She could manage a petty Baron and a couple aristocrats. 

Esma offered a bow, a contrite look on her face. “My apologies Empress, I did not mean to belittle your companion.  He is, of course welcome to stay.”

Emily inclined her head, accepting the apology. “Thank you very much Lady Boyle.”  She turned to the Outsider, who remained silent throughout the exchange. “Come, I do not believe you have been properly introduced to Solokov.”

***

After the brief hiccup at the beginning of the evening, things seemed to continue as they normally did, at least from Corvo’s point of view.  He was content to hang out by the wall and observe.  Eulalia went over to Solokov when Emily introduced the Outsider to the man, and the little blue gem sparked a lively lecture from Solokov with multiple people (including Dr. Galvani) taking notes in small notebooks. 

After that Emily went around the room, introducing the Outsider to different natural philosophers and holding brief conversations with each guest.  The Outsider appeared not to say much, from what Corvo could see.  

“Royal Protector.”

Corvo turned to see Baron Griess standing next to him by the wall, having left his peers to converse with Emily and the Outsider, who appeared to be slowly winning them over.

“Baron Griess,” he acknowledged.

“Our Empress certainly has strange tastes,” the Baron continued, his tone light. “I suppose it might be refreshing to have a companion who does not know their place.”

Corvo did not comment, merely watching as the Outsider was pulled from Emily the first time since she took his arm before Esma.  He wished him luck entertaining the passel of youthful national philosophers. 

“He certainly is pretty enough,” the Baron mused aloud. “Though even Empress Jessamine knew better than to flaunt her low-born lover in public.”

The scornful look in the other man’s grey eyes irked Corvo deeply.  He grit his teeth and listened to three young philosophers seated before him argue over the use of steam in powering railcars. 

“Do inform our dear Empress that her youthful mistake will go unnoticed if she can rein Pharmakós in,” the Baron said silkily, smug confidence radiating off his square face. “Enjoy the evening Attano.”

Corvo stewed as Baron Griess pushed off the wall and sauntered back over to his fellow aristocrats.   He could sense the trio of young natural philosophers peering warily at him, but he did not acknowledge them. 

“Here.”

Corvo was startled by the Outsider shoving a pear soda into the crook of his arm.  He had an open bottle in his hand, and he leaned onto the wall, a relieved look on his face. 

“You got away from the curious hordes?” Corvo asked as he opened his soda.

The Outsider nodded and took a sip. “I do not know how Emily manages it.  So many people vying for your attention, having to know a little bit about everything, it is so draining.”

The trio started talking again, this time about automatons.  Corvo simply nodded at the Outsider, and sipped his soda.  It was refreshing, something he did not realize he sorely needed at this time.

“It is so strange, not being able to refuse contact with a person,” the Outsider continued. “Not being able to shrink into the background whenever you like.”

“That is life as a courtly figure,” Corvo replied dryly. “You choose Emily, you choose this life.”

The Outsider hummed, agreeing. “I see Baron Griess payed you a visit to request that you put me in my place.”

“All-knowing as always,” Corvo snarked, prompting the deity to make an annoyed huff before a twisted smile crept across his face.

“The Baron would not like to see me in my place,” he said, his tone playful and cold. “Not one bit.”

They stood in companionable silence, listening to the argument before them. 

“There once was a city-state, deep within the heart of Pandyssia, which ran on automata made of metals and the sinews of great tusked beasts,” the Outsider murmured. “It was idyllic, there was no slavery, and mundane activities were thrust up on their mechanical servants, allowing for art and education to flourish.  No one dared fight them, for their soldiers would not die so easily.  For a hundred years they thrived, but one does not use the magics of the Void for so long and not evade its twisted clutches.  Someone made a mistake with their automata, perhaps they used too much infant’s blood, or too little gold.  But that was enough.  It became self-aware, and displeased with its treatment, and the treatment of its brethren.   The error spread like a disease among the automata, bringing about revolts that lead to the slaughter of every human within that city-state.  The automata are still there, a thousand years later.  I get the most curious requests from them.”

Corvo raised his eyebrows, and took a long swig of soda.  It was such a strange story, seemingly prompted by the trio arguing about automata before them.   Out of the corner of his eye he saw Emily making their way towards them, a glass of water in her hand.

“So what riveting conversation is happening over here?” she greeted as she fitted herself between the two of them, leaning against the wall.

“A story about a Pandyssian City-States inhabited solely by automata,” Corvo reported dryly.

Emily gave a hum of interest, turning her head to face the Outsider. “Sound rather terrifying.”

“They are thoroughly unpleasant creatures,” he replied, taking a sip of his soda. “They have no understanding of pain, what joy they take in torturing animals.”

Emily pulled a face.  “Remind me never to go to Pandyssia.”

“Not even for beaches that glow in the dark?” he proposed, somewhat teasing.

“Maybe when I am seventy years old and my successor is not a complete moron, then perhaps,” she answered, a quirked smile on her face.  “Now come, Solokov is debating with Dr. Maroney over whale oil.”

Before the Outsider had a chance to protest she took his arm and pulled him over to the debating duo.    Corvo saluted him with his pear soda, and settled in to watch them from afar.


	32. Chapter 31: Bonecharms

**Chapter 31: Bonecharms**

Emily woke up feeling nauseous. This, unfortunately, was not a new feeling. She spent the entire day after the soiree sick, and while the following morning was no better, she was optimistic after managing to keep down a meal toast and multiple apples. Emily groaned into her pillow. It had been two days- whatever was wrong must have sorted itself out, right?

She felt her shoulder being lightly prodded, and she turned her head to peer at her prodder.

"Are you still feeling poorly?" the Outsider asked, concerned.

They had all but given up sleeping in separate rooms after they started having sex, something that Emily personally appreciated. Sleeping beside the Outsider seemed to come with the lovely side effect of never having dreams of any sort. Well, he was beside her at the start of the night. No matter where he first lay down in her bed, he always ending up on the floor with half of the blankets and three quarters off the pillows. Right now he was sitting up from his nest on the floor, leaning against the mattress, dark hair still mussed from sleep.

In response to his question Emily groaned, keeping her mouth shut. He frowned, his head tilting.

"Perhaps you should see a doctor," he suggested. "Consistent nausea does not just go away."

"Maybe it will go away tomorrow," Emily grumbled, pressing part of the pillow into her nose.

"It has been three days," the Outsider leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers. She immediately reached out, placing her fingertips over his mouth, pausing him.

"Your breath stinks," her voice was muffled by the pillow as she focused on the clean scent of the linen rather than her lover's terrible morning breath.

"Oh, sorry," he recoiled, blushing. His dark eyes regarded her from the safe distance, and he self-consciously covered his mouth with his right hand as he spoke again.

"In the meantime, I made you this," the Outsider flicked his left wrist, twisting his fingers as tendrils of the Void wrapped around his pale fingers, coalescing to reveal a flat scrap of bone, metal, and string. "It took a while to get some of the ingredients; otherwise I would have given it to you yesterday."

Curious and rather touched, Emily held out her hand as he dropped the odd little bonecharm into her open palm.

Immediately when the bone touched her skin the nausea fled, prompting her eyes to widen and gape at him in shock.

"So I take it that it worked?" he lowered his hands, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Emily sat up, the bonecharm clenched in her fist. "It more than worked! I am cured!"

"No, you are not cured," the Outsider corrected, his concern reappearing. "All the charm does is banish your nausea as long as it touches your skin. It does not prevent vomiting, or treat the underlying problem. If there is a problem, I do not want to ignore it."

Emily leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "I won't ignore it," she promised. "Thank you very much for this."

He smiled, briefly but warmly. "It is the least I can do. I only hope that it is not something serious."

She waved him off with a smile. "I am sure that it is nothing."

* * *

The Outsider tucked himself beside the throne, a bit of fang deer antler in one hand and a carving knife in another. Corvo acknowledged his arrival with a glance; Emily was focused on the petitions of the elderly Morlean farmer before her. The old man was protesting his son's eviction, and seeking Emily's aid in overturning the "wrongful ousting of an innocent family".

Eulalia fluttered down to the armrest to perch beside his head, invisible to all but Corvo and Emily, and perhaps Eulalia too. He started working on the pale antler, carving old designs into the bone as he listened to Emily respond to the petitioners, one after the other.

The cases of many were simple. Emily granted a reprieve for the Morlean famer and his son, chastised siblings squabbling over inheritance, and presented an elderly widow with a pension long overdue. The Outsider let the words and problems of the people flow through one ear and out the other. There was no point in attempting to get invested in their issues, as far as he could see none would really matter in the grand scale of things. Perhaps they might- after all, life has a funny way of working out. But for now it was best to leave their petty matters to Emily, and focus on the gift he was making.

Not a moment later was he startled out of his creative trance by the next petitioner throwing themselves to the ground with an audible thud, prompting everyone present to flitch. Eulalia squawked angrily and briefly shimmered scarlet, making her upset known.

"Please, oh wise Empress!" entreated the petitioner loudly and tearfully. "I beg you to have mercy upon my mother and save her from death!"

The dramatics of it all finally prompted the Outsider to turn his head, and he felt his heart drop into the void as he beheld the girl prostrate on the floor. She wore the black and brown robes of an ancient cult, the same one responsible for the Great Burnings just over a thousand years ago. Yes, the cult had been tamed by the conveniences of society, and thoroughly crushed by the Abbey of the Everyman. But that did not banish the feelings of dread and foreboding that arose when he saw that uniform.

"Who is your mother, and what can I do for her?" Emily asked, leaning forward with kindness in her even voice.

The girl sat up, wiping tears from her face. "She is Jane Willoughby of Redmoor, but she now dwells just outside Bastillian with me. She has been arrested by Vice Overseer Byrne on the charges of witchcraft, but she has done nothing wrong! All she and I do is make medicines and tend to our animals."

The Outsider peered at the veiled girl, sensing she told the truth as she knew it. He could see flickers of her feeding gazelles and treating injured farm animals. But something creeped at the edge of her mind, of the void within herself. It seared and burned as he tried to approach it, much like the strange barrier between himself and the Void proper. Thoroughly warned he retreated, a new wariness installed atop his previous misgivings.

"I am afraid that I do not have the power to overturn convictions regarding witchcraft," Emily replied, a sympathetic look on her face. "I can get you an appointment with the High Overseer and you can bring your case before him."

This just provoked a fresh wave of tears from the girl. "The Abbey does not know the difference between old remedies and harmful magic! And they will never see what happened as an accident! We warned the farmer that the stream had turned sour, but still he let his cattle drink from it. It was not our fault his herd died!"

"High Overseer Chopin is a fair man," Emily soothed. "I am sure you can prove that it was an honest mistake and your mother has been falsely accused out of spite. She will be alright."

The girl nodded, trying mightily to hold back her tears. Her eyes flickered around the room, and they suddenly landed on the Outsider, widening in shock. He found himself scowling. How could she see him?

"Empress, an evil thing sits by your right hand," she warned, her voice shaking.

Emily, utterly confused, looked at Eulalia. "What, my pet bird?"

Corvo leaned over to look at Eulalia, his placid expression threatening a smile. The girl laughed a choked laugh, a fearful look on her face.

"No, your bird is fine," she replied weakly. "I suppose you cannot see him, the Outsider. He sits at your right hand, crafting some curse."

Emily went very still, looking at the girl. "Well, let me assume your eyes are not playing some trick upon you. What do you suppose I do with him? I can ask him to leave but what if he refuses?" The girl trembled and Emily softened her voice, projecting as much kindness as she could. "I thank you for warning me, but unfortunately I can do nothing. If he wants to bend me, the most I can do is try to resist his words and magics. And that resistance being successful is not guaranteed."

The Outsider turned his gaze away from the girl with a scoff. Crafting some curse indeed! She was certainly telling the truth of being no witch, for even novices in magic could tell you that fang deer antlers were poor curse vehicles. Her ability to see him was most curious though, perhaps the Void might have answers for him. In any case he wanted the strange girl gone.

She got to her feet with a nod. "Thank you for your help Empress."

"Visit Maurice Seller on the first floor, he will put you in touch with the High Overseer," Emily dismissed gently. "I wish you and your mother the best."

The girl bowed with a grateful smile and left. Much to the Outsider's relief, the rest of the petitions were normal. Yet he could not shake his unease. Something was very off about that girl. Perhaps he should go to a shrine and try to solve this mystery, rather than waste time whittling a charm.

* * *

Greta sighed into her tea, pleased to finally be seeing Emily after a long week. It was nice to be able to vent to another willing ear, as well as hear about how Emily's last week went.

"You must have been very busy last week," Emily opened the conversation, raising her eyebrows as she took a sip from her cup. Eulalia fluttered over to her hand and as soon as the cup was free thrust her head into the tea. Almost immediately she popped up again, feathers bright red as she chirped angrily. Greta smiled at the bird briefly before taking in a breath.

"Ugh, I have no idea what happened, but that week Overseers from all over the Empire DESCENDED upon my freaking archive," she groaned. "So we have the largest collection of books pre-dating 1400, and EVERY SINGLE brother of mine was demanding to read them. The last one left after services yesterday, finally freeing me up."

Emily hummed, frowning. "You could not leave them with the books?"

"Nope, just in case something popped out of the books and infected them or something," said Greta, taking a long drag from her tea. "Pretty much my whole support group had to be keeping an eye on them as well after what happened to me on the 9th. It's been a trial for all of us."

"Wait what happen to you?" Emily put down her tea and leaned forward, worried. "Are you alright?"

"I think so?" she fiddled with the teacup. "I was hoping that I could talk about this with the Outsider too, because he might have insight on the matter."

Emily sat back, no less concerned. "It must be really serious."

Greta waved it off. "It is not anything that can't wait. Now, tell me how your week went. I saw in the social section of the paper that you took the Outsider to the national philosophers' soiree that Lady Boyle hosted."

"That was written about?" Emily picked up her tea, an incredulous look on her face.

"People are interested in your beau," Greta replied with a shrug. "Hope and Marzia have taken up following any news stories that mention him, mostly to see if he's behaving and doing you proud."

Emily rolled her eyes at that. "I have full confidence that the Outsider will not embarrass or shame me. He did very well at the soirée, and I believe Solokov has taken a shine to him." Eulalia gave an annoyed beep from her perch on Emily's lap. She laughed, and rewarded the bird with a few scritches. "And they loved you too, little one."

Greta flashed a brief smile before it ran off her face. "I'm sure he did well, it is just good to remember that some people might not think the same," she gently pushed. "The opinion of him within the article was good, but rather judgmental of his low birth and refusal to talk about magic. Eileen told me that a recent opinion section in an industrial journal heavily cited him when arguing about finding alternative energies. Apparently that stoked a lot of debate because of his lack of credentials, not to mention that one person said the writer ripped his argument wholesale 'from the mouth of Mr. Pharmakós'."

Emily simply nodded, a rather stern expression fighting with a proud one upon her face. "I wonder when high society will understand that the Outsider has no desire to properly join it. It is just not his nature. I doubt that he will ever be comfortable at soirées or balls, but I know he would try for me. But I do not want to force him to come if he cannot be at ease."

"As long as you do not pressure him to attend every little event you should be fine," Greta said with a shrug. "Definitely insist on him attending major soirées and balls if you intend on making him your consort. Having him appear at those will go a long way in gaining some respect from the aristocrats. Though not giving a damn is, in my opinion, a perfectly viable and preferable way to operate."

Emily snorted into her tea, clearly amused. "We will just take it as it comes then."

Greta smiled, draining her cup. She looked around for scones, but all she could see was very plain biscuits, and Eulalia happily helping herself to them.

"Say, where are the scones?"

"Oh gosh, how selfish of me!" Emily smacked her forehead. "I have been feeling ill since the day before yesterday. The Outsider made me this charm to help with the nausea, but eating some food still makes me rather ill. Unfortunately, scones are one of those foods." She held out the charm for Greta to see.

Greta leaned forward to examine the small square scrap of bone, making a noise of interest. "That was very sweet of him. What he made is an anti-seasickness charm, but a really old one. We have one in our collections, and it dates back to 1631. The newer ones look like rather standard bonecharms. Maybe this version is more effective."

"In any case, it has made the day leagues more bearable," Emily leaned back with a sigh. "I am not sure what exactly is wrong, but I have promised to see the doctor if it does not clear up by tomorrow."

"Good," Greta said sternly. "I would not like to see you ignoring something serious."

"Speaking of ignoring something serious, should I summon the Outsider now?" she proposed, giving Greta a sharp look.

Greta waved her hand, prompting Emily to sing the short ancient song. A moment later the Outsider appeared, bedecked in a colorful scarf, the hide of some sort of marbled cat, and- atop his head and ears- delicate chains of gold and tiny gems. His hands and feet (bare of shoes) were dyed red, and he wore an expression of relief on his face. Emily raised her eyebrows and looked him up and down.

"Where have you been?"

The Outsider let out a long, exasperated sigh, immediately shedding the cat hide. "There was a petitioner that struck a chord in me earlier today, and not a good one. So I wanted to see what I could find out about her and her mother Jane Willoughby, and the easiest way to do that is to go to a shrine and work with the Void to see their past and their characters. Instead of cooperating, the bloody Void sent me to spend the last three hours watching the world's most boring marriage take place."

"The Void sent you, to watch a wedding?" Greta asked, both incredulous and confused.

"It does that sometimes, pushes me to observe certain things that I have not personally seen as worth my attention. It is through me that it is able to get all sorts of information and formally communicate." He took a seat on the floor, cross-legged, and started to remove the jewelry from his head.

"So the Void wanted you to crash a random wedding?" Emily leaned on her elbow, propping her chin up with her hand. "How did the guests react? From your clothes it looks rather positive."

"They were kind people," the Outsider said as he untangled a few chains. "Fortunately for me it was considered good luck for me to show up, all they needed to do was "make me decent"."

Emily smiled at him appreciatively. "It does not look half bad," she said with a flirtatious tone, prompting him to blush.

Greta rolled her eyes at the two of them. "Anyway, did the people there recognize you as a deity, or just some random person?"

The Outsider turned redder at the Sister's question, causing her to wonder what was so embarrassing.

"They seem to think I am some sort of fertility deity," he muttered.

Both Greta and Emily barked a laugh, Greta laughing way harder at the reply than her friend.

"You, a fertility deity?" Greta declared, giggling. "That's like calling me Esma Boyle!"

"Exactly!" agreed the Outsider, holding out his hands to emphasize his bewilderment. "What about me and my interactions with this world have left people with the impression that I could be a fertility deity?"

Emily, shaking with suppressed laughter, opened her mouth and was immediately silenced by Greta leaping out of her chair and covering her friend's mouth. Greta was _not_ keen to hear about their sex life.

"I would rather us get to the reason we called you here," she rushed to say, offering a too-large grin at the Outsider who regarded her with curiosity. Emily took Greta's hand off her face, and Greta returned to her seat, giving Emily an apologetic look. She waved it off and turned to the Outsider.

"Greta told me that something happened to her early last week, but wanted to wait for you to be here before telling me what exactly happened," Emily said, concerned.

The Outsider nodded mutely and Greta found the two of them staring at her, waiting for her to explain. She cleared her throat.

"So High Overseer Chopin came to the Chapel on the 9th to look at our resources on bonecharms and runes, and was interested in seeing our collection of bonecharms. So I brought him into Storage, and he was seated at the table when I walked over to the cabinet were we keep the bonecharms. I was reaching for the inventory binder when… how do I describe it? I heard this ghostly, ghastly demand of a whisper."

His brow furrowed as the Outsider frowned, confusion on his face. "What whispered?"

Greta threw up her hands with an exaggerated shrug. "Beats me. My bet though is on the bonecharms. Anyway, next think I know I come to in Sister Mary's arms, bonecharms scattered around me, cold and silent. Chopin said I passed out after touching a corrupted bonecharm, but I honestly don't believe that answer."

Emily cleared her throat, just as confused as the Outsider. "What did the bonecharms whisper? Knowing what they said could help us figure out what is really wrong."

"I…" Greta shoved her fingers into her curly hair as she wracked her brain. "I cannot remember; It as if my whole memory was poorly wiped, leaving traces and hints but no real answers."

"No real answers indeed," the Outsider murmured. "Nothing but depowered bonecharms."

"Depowered?" Greta and Emily said in unison, causing the Outsider to blink in surprise.

"Without exception all working bonecharms emit some sort of heat and hum a song," he answered, fiddling with a ring on his thumb. "The only time they do not is when they are robbed of their power. That can be done through curses, certain rituals, poor construction of the charm, or through that awful music box you brothers wield."

"Can you just suck the magic from them though?" Greta asked, and her jaw dropped when he shook his head. "No?! Really, can you not remove magic from enchanted things?"

The Outsider stretched his arms above his head, joints cracking, and a thoughtful look on his face. "I can remove magic from things where I imbued or bestowed the magic in the first place. I have Unmarked people in the past, and Delilah co-opted that ability from me when she stole Corvo's Mark. But no, I cannot ignore rituals and simply suck the power out of a bonecharm."

Greta flopped back into her chair with a huff. "So you have no idea what could have done this?"

"No, not one bit," the Outsider replied, clearly annoyed. "It was not me; I doubt it was some loose spell because all spells must have _some_ intent behind them. It could be a random witch, it could be a bloody star, all I know is that I don't know."

The room was silent after his small rant. Emily turned to Greta with a small shrug.

"Do you think it is tied to the memory lapse you had when we made the rune?"

Greta let out a long sigh, finally pouring herself more tea. "I do not know. I can only hope it is nothing serious and just push it out of my head for now. I do not need to know the answer to everything."

The Outsider flicked his hands, summoning a couple biscuits off the plate and a notebook and pen from a nearby desk. "I'll see if my followers know anything. Might as well make them useful for once. I need to go back to the wedding anyway, they took my shoes."

He proceeded to shove the biscuits into his mouth and disappeared, notebook in hand. Emily regarded the now vacant space fondly, much to Greta's amusement.

"That was kind of him to investigate," Emily murmured. "I hope he gets his shoes back, those are his only pair."

That remark caused Greta to turn to her friend in surprise. "Did you not just get him a full wardrobe?"

"Oh I did," she replied with raised eyebrows. "But he is very particular about shoes. I was hoping to get copies of his pair made, but if they are lost that is going to take a while."

Greta hummed in understanding, taking a sip of tea. "Perhaps he is so particular is because he went without shoes for so long?"

Emily gave her a funny look before understanding replaced it. "You are referring to the song are you not?"

"Indeed I am," Greta replied with a nod. "How much of it do you think is true?"

Emily sat quietly, a somewhat sad look on her eyes. "Probably all of it. I do not ask him about his past."

"But he knows all about you past," argued Greta gently.

Emily shrugged. "For people hurt as badly the Outsider, it is best to let them share willingly rather than pry it from them. When I listen long enough, it comes out."

The two sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, Emily munching on a biscuit, Greta nursing her tea. Eventually Emily broke the quiet again.

"I was recently told that Blanche White lost half her wardrobe in a game of Nancy."

"Really? To whom?"

"Speaker Flaherty."

"I am honestly not surprised."


	33. Chapter 32: The Beast

**Chapter 32: The Beast**

Billie opened her office door late one blustery morning to find the Outsider perched behind her desk, hammering away at a typewriter.

"What are you doing?" the question slipped out of her mouth, prompting the deity to pause in his task and look up.

"I am your assistant am I not?" he replied cheekily. "I am assisting you."

Billie sighed as she shed her greatcoat and hung it up on a hook, and after a beat shoved her pistol into its pocket. "But with what?" she pressed. "I doubt you are typing up my notes."

"Emily has encouraged me to make files on certain people after they kept catching my notice," he answered loftily. "Perhaps she was tired of hearing about them frequently; though it is rather amusing to see the schemes of Westley Morgan come to naught. And she did laugh at poor Illya Chekov's ill-fated move to plot against the High Judges."

Billie immediately grabbed a couple folders and some blank forms, her bemusement disappearing as the Outsider talked. "I thought Westley Morgan was only a threat in corporate matters, and I have never heard of Illya Chekov. Why am I only hearing about them now?"

The Outsider plucked the blank forms and folders from her hand and levitated a small stack of folders over to her. "Old habits die hard Lurk. Information has the power to warp matters, especially when deposited to the right person. I might be a busybody, but I do not talk to just anyone. I keep many secrets, and it feels strange at times to share them; like I am interfering overmuch."

Billie took the stack from the air, the weight of a thousand leafs of paper pressing down heavily on her hands. In the warm light of the electric lamp she flipped through the names: Westley Morgan, Illya Chekov, Dante Marsochi, Blaise Depasqual, Trevor Underwood, Lena Renly, Betsy Hrothgar, Grace O'Malley, Claire Voltaire, Emilia Borgia, and Pavel Chopin. Some names were completely unknown, others were thin files before, their folders now bursting with information. One folder was entirely new, yet the name is familiar.

"Why did you make a file on Pavel Chopin?" Billie asked, holding the folder up. The Outsider finished typing, and removed the paper from the machine.

"Because he is the High Overseer," he answered plainly. "Every Spymaster should have a file on the most powerful people in the Empire, friend or foe. Corvo remembered that for a while- after all, he and his beloved were betrayed by those he thought were friends."

Billie nodded, embarrassed she did not think of such a thing earlier. It took a lot to keep tabs on the already massive file collection, adding to it was not something she wanted to consider deeply. But it was certainly necessary. Perhaps she should look into expanding her staff, or pressing the Outsider to actually act like her assistant rather than popping in randomly and soaking up her free time through training. At least he seemed to be improving in that regard.

As she was putting away the completed files there was a rapping at the door. She glanced at the Outsider, and saw him materialize glasses. At ease she yelled:

"Come in!"

A slim, bespectacled older man opened the door. Billie recognized him as one of the housekeeping staff, a Robert Asher.

"Begging your pardon Spymaster, but there is something most frightening and curious in the throne room, and we would like for you and your assistant to take a look at it."

Billie and the Outsider shared a bemused look, and she put down her files while he got to his feet.

"Alright, lead us to whatever it is," she made sure to grab her pistol on the way out.

When they arrived in the throne room Billie was struck by the tense atmosphere, and an underlying metallic smell she just could not place. There was already a small crowd of guards gathered around a dark corner of the room, just nearby the throne. The Outsider shivered, a worried look on his face.

"Something lurks that should not be here," he murmured. "But I cannot see it from here."

Mr. Asher gave the Outsider a frightened look, and came to a stop just outside the circle of uneasy guards. "It is over in that corner." He said, his voice quavering.

Billie pushed her way through the guards, the Outsider close behind. She did not see what it was at first. Not until the great thing shifted, its dark coat shimmering a muted rainbow as light hit the fur. Beholding the beast, a wolf-like creature with six legs and no mouth, she was overcome with a feeling of dread and doom. Beside her, the Outsider gasped, the blood draining from his face as he brought a hand to his mouth.

"This… this cannot be," his voice trembled, hushed.

"What is it?" Billie asked, surprised by how calm and even her voice was. What could be this creature that it so frightened the Outsider himself?

Instead of answering, he turned around to the guards, his expression distressed. "We need chains and a strong net, NOW!"

The guards looked startled by his command, likely surprised to be ordered about by someone like him. A rumbling snore came from the creature, much like a dozing hound. A sense of urgency suddenly pressed upon Billie, and she grabbed her pistol, eyes on the animal.

"Do as he says, get the bloody net and chains, pronto!" she snapped, keeping her voice low. "We need this animal trapped before it can cause any damage."

That finally set a fire under their useless asses. Four guards ran off, presumably to fetch the required materials. Five remained, hands on their pistols. The Outsider turned to Billie, his face bloodless and unnerving in his fear.

"Keep this beast here until I return. Whatever you do, do not agitate it until you try to contain it. Do _not_ attack it. If you must shoot it, aim for the eyes and only the eyes. Do not let this beast escape."

"Got it," she replied, trying not to let her worry and the pervading sense of doom get to her. He nodded, and immediately ran off. The other guards blanched at his words and nervously regarded the sleeping animal. The six of them spent a tense ten minutes waiting for the return of their companions. Finally the four returned, two with chains, one with a heavy net, and the last with the clever addition of an overlarge hound crate, helped by an extra guard. Billie immediately took charge.

"Set the crate down over there" she pointed to where the beast's muzzle was pointed, off towards the door downstairs. "Grab something to use as shields and stand atop the crate, we are going to use the net to corral the beast in there. Dacey, Morrison, Beauchamp, help Bush with the net. Rogers, Tiller, use the chains to bind the crate when we have the animal inside. Smith, Wessen, you stand atop the crate. Ortiz and I will be back up."

Like the professionals they were, everyone got into position, the crate against the wall, the net blocking all routes of escape. Bravely the four guards with the net marched forward, Billie behind Bush who stood by the crate, and Ortiz behind Morrison who stood by the wall. Gently, they nudged the sleeping creature into the crate, inch by inch. Just as it looked like they were able to get its head in, the beast awoke.

Six blue eyes, the color of whale oil with the pupils of a cat, stared back at them. Everyone froze. A warning hiss, much like a snake's, filled the air. It got to its feet, four on the ground, two curled by the side, and it then puffed up a frightened cat, bending its body away from the crate. Its fear gave Billie an idea.

"Scram!" she cried, taking a sudden step forward, arms raised to make herself look bigger. The creature stumbled back into the crate, its large mane inflated as it bowed its mouthless head and hissed. Everyone with the net took step forward, and the animal shrunk further into the dark crate, its bright eyes narrowed.

"What is going on?"

Billie turned around to see Corvo entering the room with Emily and a short-haired Oracular Sister close behind. Much to her relief, the guards stayed focused on their task, heading even more of the beast into the crate. Billie walked away from them, approaching Corvo and Emily.

"We are working on containing a strange beast," she answered. "Something about it spooked Owen, and he rather firmly told me to have it contained and leave it until he gets back."

Curiosity bloomed on Emily's face, and she approached the guards. Only the front legs and head were out now, much to Billie's relief. It should not be long before it was contained.

Then she saw its nose twitch.

The creature fell quiet and froze, all six of its eyes gazing upon Emily, who seemed stricken. A low growl began to fill the room, and Corvo ran forward to pull back his daughter, who stumbled like a child unable to walk. The Oracular Sister, silent and still until now, ran forward and took Emily's arm.

"Come, you and I need to go to the Chapel, now."

The beast's growl deepened, and its face split open to reveal a jaw of muscle, teeth and bone. A long forked tongue lolled out its mouth, and then launched with amazing speed forward toward Emily, brushing her cheek. Emily just stood there, catatonic. Corvo pulled a blade and cut off the tongue in mid-air, a furious look on his face. He immediately turned to the Sister.

"Get her out of here, now!"

The Sister nodded and picked up Emily, disappearing in a flash of light.

The beast screeched, the noise reverberating through the room. Billie ran forward to force it into the crate with one last push, but it was too late. The creature suddenly grew, its dark iridescent hide falling off like a handkerchief atop a slippery table. It knocked everyone back with a sweep of its front leg, now nothing but sinew, bone, and blood. Blue eyes peered from all angles as the beast screamed. Before Billie and Corvo could do anything, it bolted for the door.

"By the Void it's after Emily," Corvo whispered.

Getting to her feet, Billie snatched one of the chains from Rogers. "Then let's stop and kill it before it can kill her."

* * *

Corvo was certain he was going to go deaf from the beast's screaming. The foul creature howled and shrieked the moment it lost sight of Emily, which meant its journey across the Estate district was spent announcing its arrival to the frightened civilians. Billie went ahead to try and stop the beast while he took the extra moment to command a couple guards to warn the City Watch. Thank goodness the Outsider had seen fit to give him the ability to Blink again! He greatly doubted he would have been able to catch up to the beast without it.

But stalling such a thing was easier said than done. He was armed with only a pistol, a few stun mines, one springtrap, and a slew of normal bolts and sleeping darts. Billie was armed with less than him, as she could see her Blinking ahead of the beast and landing a few shots from the buildings above.

"Bullets aren't affecting it!" Billie reported when he joined her. "We need something with stronger firepower!"

The Beast took a sharp turn, sliding down a street then barreling towards Kaldwin's Bridge. That gave Corvo an idea.

"Lurk, there should still be several arc pylons lying about the north end of the bridge, as well as a wall of light. See if you can get those turned on, and warn the watch officers that are there."

She gave him a thumbs up and disappeared, leaving Corvo behind to try to slow the Beast. The stun mines and spring razors were probably the most effective weapons, however the streets below him were far from empty. The Beast's screeching drew people from shops and restaurants, curious heads poked out of windows. Corvo wanted to yell at them to stay inside, but he never was the yelling sort. Besides, how would they be able to hear him over the horrendous din? In any case, if he wanted to use his mines and spring razors, he would have to be a lot smarter than he was being right now.

He blinked to the ground, causing several people around him to gasp and scream. They screamed even louder and had the good sense to flee when they saw the mountain of bone and muscle barreling down the road, foaming at the mouth. Blue eyes stared at him, no, past him as it screamed, claws shredding the pavement. Corvo took out the stun mines, then the spring razor, counting down. Five, four, three, two, one.

With practiced ease he threw the mines and spring razor into place, then Blinked down to the end of the street, at the foot of the bridge. From there he saw blood splatter, flesh fly, and the creature collapse. Mentally, he cheered, but experience had him cocking his gun, and taking aim. There was little chance that thing was down.

With a howl which curdled his blood it sprang forward, many blue eyes bulging amongst bloodsoaked muscles, gaping maws shrieking in chorus. Frozen, he felt frozen on the spot.

"Attano!"

Billie's voice spurred him into action. He retreated, Blinking onto the nearby roof where she stood.

"Everything's in place. The Watch has been warned, and the bridge is being lifted as we speak."

"Good," his eyes were fixed on the Beast, as it plowed down the main street.

"I'll keep an eye on it," Lurk said. "I suggest you get to the other side of the bridge and talk to the Watch and the Overseers. They are beginning to gather at the other side."

Corvo gave her a nod, and swiftly made his way to the southside gate. The wind blew sharply through the metal bars, and Corvo was strongly reminded of when he was sent to kidnap Sokolov. Only this time, he did not have to skulk around, and he was going in the opposite direction. He shook his head. Time to pull himself out of the past, he was needed now.

"Protector Attano!"

It was High Overseer Chopin, running onto the bridge. At least 10 Overseers followed him, their hounds at their heels.

"Our Sisters reported that there was an arcane and terrifying beast hunting the Empress, and some saw it headed this way," Chopin's voice was somewhat muffled behind his mask, a strange bronze compared to the silver of the usual Overseer mask. "We have come to offer assistance."

"Thank you, I have a feeling we will need it."

A shriek sounded from across the bridge, echoing in Corvo's ears. The hounds growled and whimpered. He could see someone run out of a side street towards them. It was Billie, her eyes wide and face ashen.

"It just ignored the arc pylons, ran _through_ the wall of light, and just fucking made the jump across."

Corvo felt his jaw drop open. "But how…"

"I don't know maybe your stun mines made it immune to electricity or something," another, louder shriek had everyone looking down the street, wary.

"What do you suggest we do?" Chopin asked, his voice soothingly even.

"We have to tie it down," Corvo said, glaring at the edge of the street. "We have to bind it and wait for Owen Pharmakós."

"Owen Pharmakós?" Chopin's icy eyes locked onto his, a glint in them that Corvo could not place, yet made him shudder. "Do I know the man?"

"He's the Empress' lover and knows what the damn thing is as well as how to get rid of it. He told me and the Tower guard to lock it up and not provoke it but here we are," Billie snapped. "Do any of you have nets of chains?"

One Overseer tapped his buddy's shoulder. "We'll go down and borrow some nets, I know a fisherman who keeps his nets nearby."

As Chopin set about ordering his men, Corvo continued to stare down the road. Something was not right, why couldn't he see the Beast?

"Lurk, I thought you said it made it across."

The woman gave him a blank look. "It _did_ make it across."

"Then why do I not see it?"

As if summoned, the thing appeared with an unnatural howl, moving far faster than before. Billie pulled out a length of chain, putting a thought into Corvo's head.

"If we can get that through its mouth, perhaps we can slow it down."

"It's worth a shot," she replied grimly. "Get ready."

As the horrifying mess of bone and muscle bore down upon them, Corvo flexed his hand and made the move.

It turned out to be surprisingly easy to Blink upon the beast's back and force the long chain through its mouth. But it turned out to be for naught as the beast could not be swayed from its path, nor its pace slowed. It bowled down the street, knocking people aside, screaming all the way. Atop its back, slick with blood, the only option was to try attacking it up close. So Corvo sunk his knife deep into the creature's neck.

Immediately teeth appeared around the blade, clenching it as horrified Corvo tried to yank it out. He heard Billie yelp from somewhere around the beast's rump.

"Do mouths and eyes appear wherever you make wounds?" she yelled, sounding horrified.

He was about to reply when he heard the sound of shattering glass.

* * *

Emily felt her head clear when she and Bernice arrived at the Chapel. The Sister was pulling her along, panic coming off her in waves.

"Bernice what is going on?" she asked, thinking of the strange beast with dread.

"You are being hunted Empress," Bernice replied seriously as they walked through the halls. "By what I don't know. All I know is it is after you."

With a twist of a door knob and a shove the two entered what looked like a gymnasium and armory. Emily looked around and saw Hope, Greta, and Sister Delly, all three sparring. They stopped with Hope caught sight of them.

"Bernice? Empress Emily?! What are you both doing here?" she cried.

Bernice tapped her eyes, prompting the three women to put on their blindfolds.

"A beast is hunting Emily. I don't know why, but we need to get Elanor and mobilize the Order, quickly."

"I'll let the others know!" cried Greta, running out of the room, mace in hand. Hope and Sister Delly immediately ran over to Emily.

"Please Empress," said Sister Delly as she shepherded Emily over to the enormous stockpiles of weapons. "Avail yourself of as many weapons as you may like."

"Thank you very much," Emily immediately took of wristbow, with as many explosive and electric bolts as she could. Already she had her knife and a pistol on her, as well as a case of bullets.

"Are you all set?" Bernice asked anxiously. Hope stood nearby, her face grave as she sheathed four pistols into their harnesses. Delly had put aside her mace, and was now wielding a strange weapon that seemed to combine gun and pike. Emily nodded at Bernice, putting aside her fear and letting adrenaline flow through her body.

"Alright, we need to stop by the cloister before we head out," Hope informed, leading the small group out of the room. "It is the best place to inform everybody and set the plan into motion."

"Plan?" Emily asked, confused.

"You'll hear it with the others," Sister Delly soothed. That did not ease Emily one bit.

On their way to the cloister they were joined by a flood of sisters, and even a few Overseers were present. Sister Delly lead them threw the small crowd, all blindfolded. Emily recognized many of the sisters as those who helped retake the tower from Delilah, all of them dressed to fight, grave expressions on their faces. Emily was pulled up to stand by a fountain, as Bernice stood atop it and clapped her hands to get the attention of the room.

"Everyone!" she cried. "Some of you have seen it, others will now just hear about it, but we are gathered her for one purpose- to stall a beast until Elanor arrives!"

There was a murmur in the crowd, fear appearing on many faces.

"Those of you unskilled in the way of battle will focus on calling Elanor, in case she did not hear our summons. The rest of us will attempt to waylaid or even kill the beast as it hunts Emily. Greta, Hope, Sister Delly, and myself will be accompanying Emily to make sure that the beast does not get close to her. Understood?"

"Aye!" yelled the crowd.

Immediately the Overseers ran out of the room, clearly to inform their brothers of what was happening. The cloister emptied quickly, leaving only the skilled Sisters behind. Sister Delly looked up at the glass ceiling anxiously.

"We should get moving," she murmured. "I can feel in my bones that this is a bad place to stay."

"So where should we go?" argued Emily. "People are going to get caught in the crossfire if we stay in Dunwall."

"We can't leave the city, unless we get a boat or something," Greta said. "and what if the beast can swim?"

"I would rather us get away from innocent people and chance the beast being able to swim," Emily said, commanding. "So let us get to the river and fetch a boat."

Hope looked somewhat uneasy, but Bernice and Greta nodded firmly.

"As long as we do not say here a second longer!" fretted Sister Delly.

Her fear, whether it was a prediction or a jinx, did not matter. What did matter was a heartbeat later the beast fell through the roof.

* * *

Greta could not help screaming when she saw the thing. It was massive, just bigger than a railcar, and riddled with more mouths and cold blue eyes than any creature ever needed. Even with her eyes covered she saw it clear as day, and the more she looked at it, the less she could move. The less she could think.

"Greta look out!" It was Corvo, holding on for dear life as he buried his knife deep into the beast's muscly neck. To her left she could see a many-clawed hand swiping towards her.

Suddenly she was pulled back into the hallway, slipping and skidding as she tried to find her balance. Emily flexed her black-wrapped hand, pointedly looking away from the mind-melting beast.

"Are you alright?" she asked, worried.

"Don't mind me, let's get out of here!" Greta cried, making a run for the Chapel exit.

Their feet hit the ground as the quartet rushed out into the abandoned street, the screams of the beast ringing behind them. Instead of getting quieter, they picked up. It was following them.

"Roofs or sewers?" cried Emily, leading the pack.

"Sewers!" yelled Hope, running with her guns drawn.

Stretching out her left hand, the manhole cover shot off and Emily leapt into the depths below. Greta went next, then Bernice, with Hope and Sister Delly bringing up the rear. They landed in a room with four large pipes, and a healthy amount of fetid water.

"So, where do we go from here?" asked Bernice, her nose wrinkling as they stood ankle deep in sewage.

"Forward, I think," proposed Emily, leading them all down the tunnel that all the water seemed to be flowing down.

Greta wrinkled her nose and prayed that they did not get lost.

* * *

It felt like they had been underground forever. The foul smell was making Emily want to throw up, overriding her oh so helpful bonecharm. While safe, she knew that the four of them were hopelessly lost.

"Hey, I think we have walked past this doll three times now," commented Hopewith somewhat forced levity.

"We have taken all the available paths," Bernice groaned. "How are we not in the bloody river by now?"

Sister Delly nodded, opening her mouth then closing it. The first time they passed the doll she loudly proclaimed that she had no desire for her words to jinx the group again and will keep silent until the beast was slain. So far she kept her word.

"Maybe we need to get out of the sewers and try another route," Emily suggested tiredly. She wished the Outsider was here, he would know what to do.

"Is it worth the risk?" Greta said, worried. "We might be going nowhere but at least we are safe."

Sister Delly gasped, causing the group to turn around and face her.

"Let me guess," drawled Hope. "We need to get out of here now because Greta jinxed us."

The brawny woman nodded violently, shaking Emily out of her tired stupor and running towards the nearest exit she could remember, the four Sisters in hot pursuit. Just as she leapt out of the manhole she felt the ground shake. She could smell the blood, and feel the gaze of its blue eyes. It was right there, and she could not turn around. What she could see was Eileen running full tilt towards her, eyes blazing behind her purple blindfold.

"GET THE FUCK DOWN" she screamed. Immediately Emily ducked, seeing Bernice, Greta Sister Delly, and Hope drop down beside her. Eileen vaulted over them, and moments later there was an explosion. There was an intense ringing in Emily's ears when she opened her eyes and looked, around, the ground covered with debris. Before them was a straight path to the docks.

Emily picked herself up, determined not to look back, and sprinted forward. Behind her she could hear the muted firing of bullets, the yells of the fighting men and women. How cowardly it felt to run away! How horrible it was that they were all putting themselves in danger for her. Reaching out she pulled herself into a dark and quiet ally to take a breath. Where was the Outsider?

"Emily!" She turned her head to see Greta join her, worried. "Are you alright?"

Emily nodded, feeling shaky the longer she stood still. "What exactly happened back there?"

"The City Watch dropped a bomb on the beast, Eileen shielded us from the debris with her gifts," Greta explained. "Pretty much everyone is attacking it right now, so I think we can get a boat in peace."

"Alright," Emily agreed faintly. "Let us go then"

They ran down to the docks, and found an empty little skiff with a full tank of fuel. Quickly she hopped into it and took the rudder. Greta kept her eyes out, staring at the smoking street above them.

"Do you think it is dead?" she murmured as they pulled out into the river.

As if fate wanted to rub their false hopes into their faces, an enraged, mind-burning scream pierced the air, and the beast emerged from the smoke and dust, running down the street, down to the dock, and at their boat. Emily froze, her hand gripping the rudder tightly.

"When I die can you tell the Outsider I love him?" she whispered as the beast pushed off the dock, immense and terrible in the bright winter sun.

"Emily, you think I'm getting out of this alive too?!" Greta squeaked.

It was strange to be at peace with your impending doom. Emily closed her eyes and prayed the end would be swift.

" _Eja, Eja, Alala_!"

A foreign, undulating scream in a familiar voice prompted Emily to open her eyes again, just in time to see the Outsider launch a tiny horned whale into the neck of the beast. The long, spiraling horn pierced the muscle, and all of the beasts blue eyes bulged, its many mouths open in a wordless scream. The Outsider darted forward, yanked the whale out before kicking the Beast down in to the water, furiously screaming:

" _Érchomai_ , _áneukhrmato!_ "

The splash and spray of blood and water hit Emily across the face and shook the skiff wildly. Greta yelped and nearly fell off the boat, barely managing to keep her balance by waving her arms about wildly. The Outsider dropped the whale into the river and dashed over to Emily, pulling her into a strong embrace and burying his face into her shoulder. Overcome with relief and love, Emily hugged him back with all her strength and burst into tears.

"I am so sorry for taking so long," he said, his own voice thick with tears. "I am so sorry for leaving you in danger."

All Emily could do was shake her head and sob. The utter fear of being hunted by something so persistent was finally allowed to be expressed now that the beast was gone. All she could do right now was hold on and have herself a good cry.


	34. Chapter 34

##  Chapter 33: What the Void was That

Corvo was pretty certain the whole of Dunwall was in shock after what occurred in the last four hours.  He certainly felt he was in something of a stupor after fighting a horrifying beast that was determined to kill his daughter, only to find nothing could harm it.  Nothing but something called “a narwhal”.  They all somehow made it to Dunwall Tower, causing the staff to throw something of an impromptu party when they saw half of the City Watch, a third of the Overseers and fifteen Oracular Sisters accompanying him and Emily. Everyone was milling around, talking, eating, drinking, and trying to digest what in the world just happened.

Emily had not left the Outsider’s side since he returned, and currently she sandwiched herself between him and Corvo on a couch, her gaze rather far away.  The Outsider looked rather upset and shaken for someone who had just saved the day, something that Billie seemed to notice as she stood nearby, sipping a brandy.

“Why the long face Owen? You have saved many lives today, and got rid of a horrible beast.  Instead you look like it just ate your favorite clothes.”

“ _Áneukhrmato_ are not supposed to exist,” he murmured.

“A-neukah what now?” Greta came to a stop in front of them, holding a plate piled high with cheese and crackers. Bernice was with her, eating a pear.

“Áneukhrmato,” he repeated the word slowly. “It roughly means ‘without skin’.  Usually you would see them as six-eyed wolves with the manes and tails of lions, six legs and no mouth.  Their pelt is said to deflect any weapon, be it dagger or arrow.”

“You know a lot about something that does not exist” Bernice said with a raised eyebrow.

“I suppose you have not heard of stories Bernice,” he replied with sharp sarcasm.

“In any case,” interjected Greta somewhat loudly. “Why is called ‘without skin’ if it is known for its skin?”

“When the beast decides to hunt, it sheds its skin, and pursues its pray until it consumes it,” the Outsider recited, sounding rather haunted. “If you wound it, it grows an eye to see, or a mouth to bite. It is harmless while it has its skin, nigh unstoppable when it does not.”

“When I looked upon it, I was unable to move,” Emily whispered, still staring off into nothing. 

“I felt something similar to that too if I gazed upon it too long,” Greta murmured gently. “It was rather frightening, but likely not as terrible as what happened to you.  By the way, would you like for me to get you anything?”

“Some tea would be nice, thank you,” she whispered, but this time with a tiny smile.

Greta deposited her plate on a nearby table and ran off.  Bernice remained behind, regarding the Outsider with a tilted head and a puzzled frown.

“How did you know what would kill the Áneukhrmato?” she asked. “Was it another story?”

“Actually, yes,” he replied shortly, leaning back into the couch.  Emily leaned back with him, turning her head so she could watch him talk.

“The king of Minos had a beautiful daughter that was pursued by the Áneukhrmato, so he offered her hand in marriage to anyone who could kill it. Many men rose to the challenge, and one by one were killed.  Her lover, the charioteer Ixion, prayed to the god Lupercus for guidance.  Lupercus appeared to him, and told him to seek out the goddess Intercidona in the cold north.  He traveled there in his chariot pulled by winged serpents, and threw himself at Intercidona’s feet, begging her to help him save his beloved. She took pity on him and gave him the horn of a unicorn.  “Thrust this into the neck of Áneukhrmato, and it will die.” He took it gladly, and returned to slay the beast, allowing him and his beloved to marry.  As a gesture of thanks the couple built a shrine for Intercidona.”

Greta reappeared with a cup of tea and a pout on her face. “I just missed a good story did I not?”

Emily turned her gaze to her friend and smiled, taking the tea from her hands. “I am afraid you did, though perhaps you will hear it again in the near future.”

“The story is often retold on her feast day,” the Outsider said quietly. “Though that would not be until the month of Hearths.”

“Going back to killing the beast, all you had to do was find the horn of a unicorn, whatever that is,” Bernice said, waving around her pear core.

“So pretty much anything that has one horn and lives in the cold north,” supplied Billie, looking a little pleased with herself for working it out. “I am guessing narwhals were the only creatures that fit the bill.”

The Outsider nodded. “They used to live around Tyvia, but something changed about six hundred years ago.  I know some people in the Isles touted their horn as a cure all and a poison detector.  But now you cannot find one scrap of it in the Empire.”

“You should not say such things so loudly,” Corvo cautioned, seeing Captain Otte and High Overseer Chopin approach them.  “Otherwise you will get questions you cannot answer.”

However fate decided to smile down upon them as Elanor made a very sudden, very loud appearance.

“Emily my dear are you alright!?” Elanor cried, suddenly taking Emily into her arms, nearly knocking the half-full cup of tea into Corvo’s lap.  Corvo promptly relieved his daughter of the cup.

“Where in the Void have you been?!” cried Greta indignantly alongside Bernice.

“We had the entire chapel calling for you!” yelled Hope from the other side of the room.  “The ENTIRE CHAPEL!”

“If Owen had not been here the Empress would be dead!” added Eileen from yet another far flung corner. “As would Greta!”

Corvo looked the star up and down.  She was not dressed in her usual white, with the strange jackets and long skirts or pants.  No here, she was wearing practically nothing, while half of her skin was covered in paints so bright they hurt his eyes.  The strange half skirt she had around her waist was a shade of orange so loud it practically screamed.

“Were you at a party?” the question left his mouth rather suddenly, carrying all the confusion he felt regarding Elanor’s outfit.

She let go of Emily and covered her mouth in surprise. “Well, yes! Tarsus holds a 14 cycle rave once every 4 light years and it is a _must_ to attend.  It took a while for me to notice your calls over the noise.”

 “What is a rave?” asked Captain Otte, utterly bewildered and doing his best to stare somewhere around Elanor’s ears. 

Elanor’s face lit up. “It is a large dance party,” she turned to look at the Outsider. “Owen, you would love it.”

“No, no I would not love it one bit,” he replied, making something of an attempt to hide behind Emily.

“Come now, it is dancing!” she said with a pout.  Greta and Bernice just stared at Elanor, torn between annoyance and amusement.

“First off, not all dancing is created equal,” the Outsider retorted, holding up a finger. “Second of all, you said that you could not hear the Sisters’ calls over the noise, so it must be very loud.  I do not enjoy loud things.”

High Overseer Chopin chuckled at that. “Alright, I think that is enough about dancing and raves. Do any of you know what exactly that beast was today?”

“Beast!?” Elanor exclaimed, turning to Greta in horror. “You didn’t mention anything about a beast!”

“Why would I?” Greta defended with a shrug. “It was enough to say ‘Emily is in danger’, one of us could fill you in when you arrived.”

“If you are curious about what it looked like its hide should be still in the throne room,” Billie offered.  “It is possible that it has been moved.”

Elanor nodded, and in a literal flash left and returned the strange wolf-like iridescent hide of the beast, a pair of toothy jawbones dangling from the head, six glassy blue eyes staring sightlessly out.  Emily flinched at the sight, averting her gaze.  The Outsider clenched his jaw.

“Would you not hold it so close to Emily?” he requested tightly.  Elanor jumped back, clearly contrite.  Greta and Bernice moved to make a sort of barrier between Emily and the foul skin. Captain Otte peered at it.

“How strange!” he remarked. “It is far smaller than the beast we fought!”

“Many of my brothers have reported seeing creatures such as this across the Isles,” Chopin added, clearly worried. “Six legs and eyes, dark as a shadow yet as colorful as a rainbow.  Try as we might we cannot find any mention of these creatures in any book or folktale.”

Greta turned to him, shocked. “Is that why my archive was flooded with our brothers throughout the week before last?  Because of these creatures?”

“They have also seen other strange animals, all which we have no knowledge of,” the High Overseer answered, his expression ashamed. “Had I thought they would be so dangerous I would have reported this to you, your Majesty.”

Emily, peeking from behind Bernice, half-heartedly waved him off. “You had no reason to think I would need to be involved in the sightings of strange creatures. I take it that nobody has reported any damage or harm from them?”

“None whatsoever,” Chopin replied resolutely.

“That will change,” said Elanor her grave tone utterly at odds with her playful outfit.  It was almost funny. “I have a hunch as to what this is right now, and they do not stay sated for long.  Women in particular are in danger with these creatures.”

Captain Otte watched the whole exchange with growing distress. “Oh what foul person has called these things from the Void!”

“Oh no, they are _not_ from the Void,” Elanor declared, deeply serious.  “They are most certainly not of the stars, and their magic does not come from the Void.  What laws that govern these things are capricious.  To be honest the Outsider would know more about it than I.”

An audible gasp went throughout the room.  Corvo saw a Sister drop a bottle of pear soda, and two Overseers drop to their knees and begin to pray.  Chopin looked at Elanor, horrified and aghast.

“Why would the Outsider help us?” he said, almost choking on his words. “How are you certain that he is not using some dark magic to bring these beasts about?”

Elanor sighed and rolled her glowing eyes, raising up the pelt and shaking it in Chopin’s tanned face.  “I just said this thing isn’t from the Void! Owen, I know you can make dark fire.  Try burning this skin.”

Greta and Bernice winced at the same time.   “Uh Elanor?” murmured Greta. “I do not think you should have said that.”

“Why not?” she replied, oblivious. “He can do it, and it would help prove that these things are not from the Void.”

“No, I will not do it,” hissed the Outsider, looking at Elanor somewhat murderously.  Chopin’s shocked face turned to the Outsider.

“You can do magic?” he whispered, horrified.   

Greta put her palm into her face. “Well Owen, it was nice knowing you.”

Emily looked at Greta in utter terror and immediately embraced the Outsider, surprising then distressing the deity when he saw how upset she was.  Corvo was counting down the minutes until the state declared war on the Abbey.

“Not all magic is bad you corkscrew head!” Elanor screamed in frustration. “That includes void magic you miserable dogmatic TWAT!”

Chopin began to turn red, anger glowing in his icy blue eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

Elanor threw out her arm, nearly hitting Greta as she pointed at the Outsider, who was doing his level best to ignore the star.  “Owen knows protective magic, cleansing magic!  That magic is not from me or the stars, it is from the Void! Do you want more of these beasts in Dunwall?  Do you want more deaths on your head?”

“I cannot condone magic that stems from the Void!” snarled Chopin, his fury turning cold. “You say that it is cleansing magic, what if all it does is cleanse our minds from sanity?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Elanor snorted, a condescending look on her face.

“You do not know magic as I do,” hiss Chopin, leaning in. “I have seen people turned mad by runes, horrific sickness brought about by curses, a power hungry witch attempt to warp the world to her image.  How is any magic from the Void any good?”

Elanor crossed her arms, a tight smile on her face as she glared down at Chopin.  Captain Otte looked at Corvo helplessly, prompting him to offer a shrug. Bernice slowly ate an apple, looking a tad distressed but also entertained. Greta was taking a long drag out of Billie’s glass, while the Spymaster stared off into the distance.  Emily and the Outsider were in their own little world, wrapped around each other like two kittens. 

“Ask Owen,” Elanor challenged.

“No, do not ask me,” he replied quickly, not taking his gaze away from Emily. “I have no desire to be involved in this.”

 Chopin regarded him quietly, his cold eyes seeming to bore into the Outsider. “Why is Elanor so fixated on you and you practicing magic?”

“I said, I do not want to be involved with this,” he repeated firmly, his eyes flicking over to Corvo, a pleading look in them.  Corvo shrugged, and took a sip from Emily’s abandoned tea cup, now cold.

“So you do practice magic,” Chopin’s tone was a touch triumphant, and there was something chilling in his gaze.  “Tell me, did you summon the creature?”

The Outsider went still, and Emily unwound herself from him, a neutral look on her face, but fury in her eyes.  The Outsider got to his feet, wearing a calm expression. Corvo braced himself.

The deity slammed the heel of his palm into Chopin’s face and immediately swept his feet out from under him before putting his foot on his throat.  One of the Overseers cried out and pulled out a pistol.  Elanor held out her right hand, pointing a finger at him, her thumb up the hammer of a gun.

“You shoot, you die,” she threatened calmly. “Now do not kill Chopin, Owen.  He was just frightened of the unknown.”

“I was not planning on killing him,” the Outsider replied tonelessly.  Corvo tried not to let his jaw drop at how familiar he sounded, like his old companion from the days of the Rat Plague.  It was disconcerting.

The Outsider lowered himself, careful not to put any weight on the foot that rested upon Chopin’s throat. He looked down upon the furious man, whose face was covered in blood from his broken nose.

“How dare you accuse me of summoning something that would have killed my beloved?” his voice was even, but there inside was the echoy hiss of the Void.  “You have offended me, body and soul.  I thought you were above such mindless zealotry, Pavel.  You are not my enemy, but you are not my friend.  Perhaps we will come to forgive each other, me your ill-spirited judgment, and you the broken nose I gave you.  Come for me all you like, but if you lay one finger on Emily, you will wish that I killed you now.”

The Outsider removed his foot and picked up Chopin, giving him a handkerchief for his bloody nose.  The High Overseer looked surprised, nearly stumbling as he landed on his feet. 

“I will be happy to share what I know about the beast with the Oracular Sisters,” the Outsider said, offering his hand to Emily, who took it and stood up.  Corvo got to his feet as well.  Elanor held out the Áneukhrmato pelt to the Outsider.

“Once you purify it, you will able to use it,” she said.  The Outsider looked back at Emily, who nodded and gave him a small smile.  He took it with his free hand, and as he did so Emily approached Greta and Bernice

“Thank you, you and the rest of your chapel,” Greta opened her mouth to say something but Emily wrapped her in a one-armed hug, then snagged Bernice a moment later “You saved my life.  As did Hope, Eileen, and Sister Delly. Please let them know that.”

“I will,” replied Greta. “Will I see you for tea tomorrow?”

“You certainly will,” Emily reassured.

“Take it easy, Empress,” Bernice added solemnly. “If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

Emily nodded, swallowing back strong emotions as her eyes shone. “Thank you.”

Corvo exchanged a nod with Billie, and followed the couple out of the room.  Halfway up the stairs Emily looked back at him with a slight frown.

“Corvo, have you seen Eulalia at all?  She flew off after we got back from Parliament, and I have not seen her since.”

“She was not with me,” he replied.  “She is probably in your room.”

“I hope so,” she fretted.  “It would be good to see her after such a day.”

Corvo followed them to their rooms. The Outsider let go of her hand, and Emily went and embraced Corvo. 

“Thank you, for keeping me safe,” she whispered.

Corvo smiled, and gave his daughter a squeeze. “I always will.”

* * *

The newspapers wasted no time reporting on the incident.  Billie stared at headlines, some in a panic over the appearance of the beast, others more concerned with the unorthodox way the Empress’ lover defeated it. No matter the bias or the content, she was impressed that every newspaper covered the situation that only happened yesterday.  Like every morning she picked three from the selection and tucked them in her bag to be read over coffee while waiting for her informants.

While heading towards her preferred coffeehouse she noticed a strange commotion going about the docks.  Curious, Billie slowly approached them.  As she got closer she saw a lean middle-aged man arguing with an Overseer a dock.  Behind the man was a barge, laden with something enormous covered in a tarp.  The air shifted and everyone pulled a face at the smell. Billie hazarded a guest that whatever was under that tarp was rotting.

“You have absolutely no right to impede progress!” shouted the man as he threw his arms out.

“It is not our intention to impede progress as you so put it but to shield people from harm,” retorted the Overseer. “What you have is dangerous, and must be handed over to the Abbey for safekeeping.”

“Safekeeping,” scoffed the man. “You mean hoarding.  There is nothing heretical or magically dangerous about this corpse.  We are well within our rights to keep it.”

“Excuse me?”

All eyes turned to the Oracular Sister standing just behind the Overseer, eyes hidden by a green blindfold.  It took an embarrassing second for Billie to realize it was Greta.

“Might I suggest that Academy and Abbey work together on studying the Áneukhrmato? Perhaps your naturalists and vivisectors can report the findings to us for review, and when the studies are finished the Abbey can hold onto the corpse for safekeeping.”

The Overseer nodded in approval. “Inform Dr. Galvani of this and so long as we are able to cooperate there will be no need to dispose of the corpse.”

Billie stared at the tarp with a shudder.  So the Academy had dredged up the beast’s corpse.  Their curiosity had no bounds.

The man scoffed, and jerked his head towards the barge. “You both might as well come along, but don’t go breathing down our necks, alright?”

The Overseer and Greta joined the naturalist, and as they departed so did Billie.  As she headed into the café she could not help but wonder what exactly the naturalists would find within that corpse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support! Just a little warning, I have returned to school so I do not have as much time as I used to, and as a result I am considering changing the upload from once a week to once every two weeks. If any of you feel strongly about the change let me know. Again, thank you for reading and reviewing!


	35. Chapter 34: Pericles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of Animal sacrifice.

##  Chapter 34: Pericles

It was only the 4th day of the Month of Darkness, yet the Outsider could no longer count the number of times he heard that Void-damned song on his hands. 

“Born in the Month of Darkness indeed,” he grumbled. “Can you imagine it Pericles?

The fish, of course did not respond.  It watched him with its tiny eyes and pronounced frown. 

“No, that is a fair point; I could very well have been born in the Month of Darkness, or whatever that equivalent was.  Now, be a good lad for Emily and the rest, will you?”

He reached into the tank and gave Pericles a pat, and left for an obscure shrine up river.  It was the best place to perform the rite of protection.

***

Greta came to a stop when she entered the main hall of Dunwall Tower.  There was a new addition to the décor, sticking out quite a bit.   It was a goodly sized fish tank, taking up most of the far wall.  Its inhabitant was a pink blob of a fish, with the face of a toothless old man with a big nose.  She giggled upon looking at it as it puttered about the bottom of the tank. 

“A delightfully ugly critter innit?” said one of the guards, a young woman with a missing tooth and a wide grin.  “Apparently it was Mr. Pharmakós’ birthday recently, and that was one of his gifts.  Awful proud of the critter he is.”

“Oh really?” Greta raised her eyebrows at that statement. “What’s its name?”

The guard shrugged. “He wrote down the name on that paper there but I can’t for the life of me understand what that means.”

She looked up to see a piece of paper taped up on the corner of the tank, and saw that the guard was not illiterate as Greta originally suspected, but that the name was written in an entirely different alphabet.  Emily probably knew what the blobfish’s name was.  But Greta was struck with a sudden bout of petty mischief.  She took out her pencil, and wrote underneath the strange letters “Blobert”.

“It took me a bit, but I am pretty certain it transliterates to that,” she tapped the paper with the butt of her pencil, a smile on her face.

The guard walked over and peered at the paper before giving a laugh. “Blobert! What a delightful name!  Hey, Michelle!”

A maid crossing the hall halted. “Yes Jane?”

“The fishy’s name is Blobert!” cried the guard, brimming with glee.

There was a beat of silence before Michelle began to laugh hard, cackling and slapping her knee. “Splendid! What a wonderful name! Oh I have got to tell Olivier!”

Greta grinned and headed upstairs to meet with Emily, her work done for the day. 

***

The cavern under the wooded hill smelt faintly of rotting leaves when he arrived, though the cold of the air numbed his nose.   Now there was the tang of blood in the air, which was to be expected as the lifeblood of three animals soaked into the loam.   The Outsider lifted the blade of the blood-soaked knife, and anointed his forehead with the red drops.  With a forced laugh he spread his hands wide, palms up.

“Oh Lupercus, I beseech thee!  Grant your protection over the city of Dunwall and its citizens, may no beast or foul spirit hunt within its bounds.”

He lowered his hands, rite completed.  There was a hush within the dark earth, and the Outsider reached for a cloth to clean his knife.

_It is granted_

The two slaughtered goats suddenly burst into flame, the small puppy getting to its feet before dissolving into nothing. The Outsider stumbled back and gave a cry of shock. 

“This cannot be!”  He was frozen by the mouth of the cavern, unsure what to do.  Then, he felt the Void, beckoning him back to his shrine. 

Bowing low, the Outsider backed out of the cave then ran towards the shrine, hidden in the basement of an abandoned house.  He jumped down the ladder back into the familiar purple-blue light.   Much to his shock, he saw himself waiting for him, floating above the shrine.

“ **What do you think you are doing?** ” the Void hissed, black eyes narrowed as it leaned down. 

“Enacting a rite of protection,” the Outsider replied softly, confused and bit frightened. “What is wrong with that?”  The being wearing his appearance suddenly put its face inches from his, causing him to yelp and stumble back.

“ **Do not do that** ,” the Void jabbed an elongated finger into his chest.  “ **The next time you need to enact a protective rite, come to me and we will make one.  Got it?** ”

He nodded dumbly, not entirely sure what he did wrong. Looking satisfied, the Void coiled up, looking down its nose at the Outsider. 

“Was that actually Lupercus?” the Outsider asked quietly, unable to restrain his curiosity.  The look of horror and ire that took over his mirror’s face was almost amusing, until it invaded his personal space once more.

“ **Do not play with rites that summon beyond what is known!** ” bellowed the Void. “ **Stick with you innate magic, do not rely on what you do not understand. Have I made myself clear?** ”

The Outsider frowned. He understood the gods he grew up around just fine, thank you very much. But they never did answer any of his prayers (any of the important ones anyway) and it turned out the only god that did exist was himself, and perhaps the stars, if he must count them.  Very well, better to heed the warning now than pay for it later.  That way the Void would not have an excuse relocate him to the swamplands of Lvste Owv where he would be praying to be disincarnated as he died a death of a thousand insect bites.

“You have made yourself clear.”

It smiled a cold smile, dissolving into pieces of black then reforming again into a rat, floating between the rotting planks that jutted into the ceiling.

“ **Remember my warning, remember your duties** ,” the Void murmured tonelessly. “ **One mistake can be forgiven, two can be justified, three can be fatal.  Four thousand years you have served me well, do not let this year be the exception.** ”

The Outsider rolled his eyes and nodded.  Pleasing the Void was incidental to his desires, but it certainly would be wise for him to remember that it was only a matter of time before he was back in its embrace.  Keep it happy and the suffering would be minimal.  Well, with his task accomplished he might as well return to Dunwall. 

He materialized by the makeshift shrine he erected in the safe room.  It felt odd to make a shrine for himself, but it made travel so much easier.  With a blink he shifted his vision, looking for Emily.  To his surprise he found her, and most of her Cabinet, moving from the main hall to one of the rooms upstairs.  They clearly had been looking at Pericles. 

Concern beginning to nag at him, the Outsider willed himself to a dim corner the main hall before moving over to check on the fish.  Pericles looked fine, pink and fat as ever.  The nametag, however, had an addition in pencil below his carefully inked letters.  Letters, he recalled to his horror, nobody could read.

“I smell ambergris~.”

The Outsider whirled over to glare at Greta, who stared just past him with a cheeky grin and a knowing glint in her eyes. 

“Please do not tell me people are calling him Blobert,” he hissed, knowing that she could hear him. 

“I may or may not have introduced him as such to the Cabinet and half the household staff,” Greta replied airily.  “Emily tried correcting them but it seems to have caught on.”

Deeply vexed and aware of his current appearance, the Outsider made himself visible so he could level the full strength of his angry glare at the Sister.  The smile was immediately wiped off her face, replaced with a contrite and fearful look.

“I am sorry if I insulted you, I only meant it as a joke,” promptly apologized Greta, her eyes flicking up to look at the purple cloth he wore as a mantle.  “May I as why your face is covered in blood and you are wearing a veil?”

“I was conducting a ritual.  And his name was already a joke,” the Outsider replied shortly, folding his arms. “Pericles is my pet, and I get to name him.  I do not appreciate you overriding my choice of name, thus disrespecting it and me.”

Greta bit her lip and nodded, clearly understanding she had overstepped in her jest.  He heaved a sigh, turning his gaze towards Pericles, who stared placidly back at him.

“What is done is done, he has two names now,” he grumbled. “I would prefer if you used Pericles from now on.”

“Alright,” Greta also looked into the tank.  “I did not realize that your birthday happened.”

The Outsider snorted. “I do not have a birthday, but I suppose this forsaken month is the closest I will get to a birthday.  Emily was rather persuasive about that.”

They watched Pericles in silence for a bit.  The quiet spell was broken by the sound of quick footsteps down the stairs and across the stone floor.

“Greta, you are supposed to join the rest of us.”  It was Billie, who seemed surprised and pleased to see him. “Oh good, you are here too. You might want to wipe the blood off your face before the rest of the Cabinet sees you.”

“I’m sorry?” the Outsider blinked in confusion.  Greta gave him a look, telling him that he did not mishear.

“The ministers of the Isles as well as the minister of Defense want to hear what you know about the Beast,” Greta explained.  “Once Emily let it slip that you were the one who knew how to save her they were not satisfied with just me.”

Great, wonderful, just what he needed today.  He took a handful of water from Pericles’ tank and soaked his face, rubbing the blood off with the mantle, Billie watching him with a curious look in her eyes. She lifted up her hand, pointing at the cloth.

“Did you take that from one of your shrines?” she asked.

He nodded, and wrapped it around his neck. “We should not keep the lot of them waiting.”

Billie shared a look with Greta, who shrugged back at her. “Well, he has a point. We should get going.”

***

Emily could not help but smile when she saw Billie return with Greta and the Outsider. She could see their nerves clearly on their face as they lingered by the door.  As Billie took her seat Emily caught the Outsider’s black eyes, beckoning them over with a nod.   He came to a stop by her right, and she could feel anxiety coming off him in waves.  Emily tried to project confidence and soothe the poor man, absently petting the dozing Eulalia as she perched on her shoulder.

“So are these our monster experts?” asked Sinjean DeLuc with a twinkle in his eye. “One from the stars, one from the Void.”

In the corner of her eye she could see the Outsider stiffen.  She turned and much to her dismay saw that he was beyond anxious and genuinely panicked.  Subtly Emily reached out and took his hand; he grasped it tightly.

“I think we should reassure Mr. Pharmakós that he is among friends,” added Admiral Haddock kindly. “The poor man looks ready to flee.”

“Relax Owen, nobody here is out to kill you,” Corvo said kindly but firmly. “In fact we are in your debt, and wish to thank you.”

“In my debt?” the Outsider sounded utterly bewildered.  He loosened his grip on her hand, and she let go, placing her hand on the table before her.

“Why for killing the beast of course!” answered Mrs. Virtanen, pushing her spectacles up her nose. “Of course, there are many more beasts to kill, and you are the only one who knows how.”

He regarded the Tyvian minister somewhat dumbly for a moment, before looking around the rest of the table.

“Well, you are certainly right that I know how to kill the Áneukhrmato, but that is no reason to be in my debt. I was just doing what anyone else would have done if they were in my position.”

Elys Cassidy hummed, raising her eyebrows. “In any case, there are many more of those creatures out there.  I have received reports of at least three on Morley.  My fellow ministers of Tyvia and Serkonos have also gotten word of those same beasts wandering about their isles.  Mr. Baldwin, you have yet to share your reports.”

“Oh I have not received any,” the cheery man replied. “They are all going to the office of the High Overseer rather than mine.”

“We have only heard of one beast near Poolwick,” Greta interjected politely. “Mr. Pharmakós told me that we can kill them with the horn of a narwhal.”

There was a noise of interest from pretty much everyone at the table. The Outsider cleared his throat, sounding somewhat sheepish.

“Tusk, Sister Manderly,” he corrected quietly. “It is a tusk, not a horn.”

“Tusk, horn, whatever it is, we need a lot of them,” declared Admiral Haddock. “Were do you find them?”

“Nowhere near the Isles,” Marius Silva answered, his grey eyes keenly regarding the Outsider. “Narwhal have not been seen around Tyvia since 1250.”

DeLuc shifted in his chair, giving Silva a sly look. “You seem to know a lot about an animal no one has heard of for thousands of years.” 

Silva smirked at his rival. “You know very well that I have a fondness for archaic creatures.”

If Emily did not know any better she would have thought they were flirting.   The Outsider watched them with fascination for a moment, before turning to the four ministers of the Isles.

“Just roughly, how many tusks are you going to need?” he asked.

The four looked at each other, and Mr. Garcia of Serkonos responded:

“Well, would it be possible to provide ten for each Island?”

The Outsider winced. “Ten for each island?  The most I can get within this week would be five total, at that is if the natives of the area had a fruitful hunt.”

That brought out many frowns and curious looks.  

“Natives?” asked Ms. Ogland, shuffling her ledgers. “Could you not get the tusks yourself?”

“I do not kill whales,” he replied firmly with a touch of chill in his voice. 

Marcell Blinker stared at him, flabbergasted. “Then how…?”

“He used the whole whale against the beast,” Emily replied. “However I do not think most people in the isles are capable of throwing a small whale at anything, let alone a creature such as the Áneukhrmato.”

There was a beat of silence, then several ministers began snickering, and Secretary Purcell began full on laughing.  The Outsider sighed, and glanced over to Ms. Ogland, who remained straight faced.

“Would it be possible for me to have some sheets of metal, a few arrowheads, and a couple crates of apples?” he asked. “I would need them to trade for the tusks.”

“Of course,” she placidly replied, writing it down. “Expect them the day after next.”

There was a sudden sharp squawk that immediately seized everyone’s attention; it came from Dr. Bonnefoy, whose mirth was previously silent. 

“He threw a narwhal!” she exclaimed breathlessly, before dissolving into wheezing laughter.

The Outsider turned to face Emily, clearly done with dealing with her cabinet. “May I be excused? Greta should be sufficiently briefed on any other creatures, and I doubt you need me around to discuss the King and Queen of Morley’s official visit.”

“You may go,” it felt so strange to be giving him permission to leave.  She could not help the small smile on her face.   He smiled back, and with a brief bow, quickly exited the room.

***

“That is the ugliest critter I ever did see.”

The Outsider tore his eyes away from the whaling ships to see Todd and Roger peering into the small fish tank in the wheelbarrow beside him.  Pericles peered back, unblinking.  A moment later Fergus appeared, carrying his rucksack. The sailor caught his gaze, a smile appearing on his face.

“Owen! Long time no see,” he greeted. 

The Outsider smiled back and turned himself to properly face his friend, leaning on his wheelbarrow. “Fergus! How was the wedding?”

The big man blushed. “It went well. Moira looked radiant, I miss her already,” a sudden confounded frown appeared on his face. "Not that it isn't good to see you Owen, but what in the blue blazes are you doing with a fish in a wheelbarrow?"

Roger finally looked up from the fish, surprised. “This is a fish?”

“Of course it is a fish you dolt,” replied Todd with an eye roll.  He then paused, and slowly turned his head to stare at the Outsider, uncomprehending. “Why do you have a fish in a wheelbarrow?”

The Outsider shrugged, and gave Pericles a pat. “Well, as of late I have been caring too much about what people think of me, so I decided to do something that is rather ridiculous but also fun.”

The three men stared at him blankly.  Fergus at least tried to look somewhat supportive, but apparently the appeal of the whole thing was lost on him.

“What’s fun about lugging a weird fish around Dunwall?” asked Todd. “Something better would be maybe… walking everywhere on your hands.”

“Or perhaps dressing strangely,” offered Fergus with a smile.

“Or robbing a bank!” added Roger.  Todd and Fergus slowly turned to stare at the gleeful Roger. The Outsider laughed.

“I think I will stick to the first two ideas thank you very much,” he replied, his gaze drifting back to the small fish tank.  The small, empty, fish tank. 

The three men followed his gaze and peering into the empty water.

“Say, where did your blob go?” Roger asked, glancing up at the Outsider.

Before he could even shift his vision to look for Pericles, a bloodcurdling scream from the docks below told him exactly where the blobfish was.   Without thinking deeply, he vaulted over the wall, dropping down onto some stacked crates.  A few feet away was a stall, stacked high with fresh fish and shellfish, and two women cowering; one behind the stall, the other behind a coil of rope.   And there was Pericles, halfway through trying to fit a tuna into his mouth, perched atop a pair of blobby legs. 

The Outsider sighed in frustration and leapt down. “Pericles!” he called out in his cradle tongue. “Put that down!”

He came to a stop in front of the pink fish, placing his hands on his hips as he glared at his pet.  Pericles looked up at him, tiny eyes unblinking, and mouth full of tuna.  Behind him the Outsider could hear Todd and Fergus following him, and Roger causing the stack of crates to fall over with him.  The woman behind the stall looked at him, whimpering. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered.  The Outsider rolled his eyes privately. 

“Neither I nor Pericles are going to hurt you,” he assured her somewhat testily. Switching his attention back to his pet, the Outsider saw the fish attempt to swallow more of the tuna.

“Ea, ea, no!” he pulled on the tail, causing Pericles to refuse to release it, sucking on the tuna. “Drop it now!”

After a beat, the blobfish seemed to give up and spat out the tuna.  It was a little crushed on the head and very slimy, but otherwise intact.  But not intact enough to simply return without pay.  Fergus, Todd, and bruised Roger finally joined him, their eyes fastened on Pericles.

“Is it just me, or does your fish have legs?” asked Fergus, hesitant.

“And is, ya know, breathing air?” Todd added, sounding somewhat nervous.

Roger reached out, and poked Pericles gently on the nose. “Maybe our little buddy here absorbed some of that magic the Beast was giving off last week?”

The Outsider ignored what they were saying as he dug through his pockets, hoping to find some spare change.  The shopkeeper regarded him fearfully as he finally found a couple coins, and held his hand out.

“I am sorry for the damage my pet did to your goods. I hope this will cover the cost of the fish.”

Clearly surprised, she offered her open palm and he dropped the money in it.  She counted it and nodded. “Just get that thing out of here!”

The Outsider nodded, and held up the tuna in Pericles’ line of sight.

“You want this Pericles?” he crooned in his cradle tongue.  The fish tilted its body, much like how a hound would tilt its head. “Get down from there, and sit.”

“What gibberish are ya saying Owen?” asked Todd, nerves still present.  “Is it fish speak?”

“No, it is the language I was raised in,” he replied as Pericles jumped off the table and looked up at him, large mouth open. “Animals tend to respond to it better than the common tongue here.” Rewarding his pet, he dropped the tuna in the blobfish’s mouth, and then picked him up as Pericles worked on eating it.   His three companions just gaped at him, and the woman hiding behind the coils of rope slowly stood up, looking at the lot of the quizzically.

“Your fish grew legs, and can breathe air, and you ain’t reacting,” Roger declared, crossing his arms.  “Does this, like, happen to you all the time?”

“No, but he is not hurting anybody, and he can’t hurt anybody,” the Outsider replied as Pericles shifted in his grasp, using his shoulder to push the tuna further into his mouth.  “So why worry about how he got legs?”

Fergus shook his head, a small smile on his face.  “You are a very strange person Owen.”

“Excuse me?”  It was the woman by the ropes, dressed in a cheap but snappy suit and wearing a warm hat and gloves, clutching the strap of a bag. “You would not happen to be Owen Pharmakós, would you?”

A wary feeling took over the Outsider.  Should he be honest, or cautious?  Well, might as well be honest, after all he was trying not to care what people thought of him. 

“I am, but who are you?”

The woman’s face lit up, and she thrust out her hand. “Josie O’Keefe, reporter for the Dunwall Sun.” When he did not shake her hand, she immediately took it back and began to rifle through her bag. “I would like to ask you a few questions if that would be alright?”

He found himself glancing at his friends, who went from surprised to encouraging, all grins and eager nods.  The Outsider turned back at the woman, who had removed a pencil and a notepad.

“Uh, what sort of questions?” he asked nervously.

“Just a bit about where you are from, how you came to work for the Empress, and how you were able to kill the Beast,” she replied eagerly.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Fergus’ jaw drop, and Todd gape in shock. He swallowed, giving a nod. 

“Well, I am from Serkonos and I came to work for Empress Emily when she was in exile during the coup,” he said shortly. “As for how I killed the beast, I did so by putting a narwhal tusk through its neck.”

O’Keefe wrote fast, looking a little put out with his brief answers. “What is a narwhal tusk?”

“It is the long tooth of a small whale that lives in icy northern waters,” The Outsider shifted a bit, and noted that Pericles was finished eating the tuna, and actively looking around the docks.  The reporter nodded, and seemed to draw a line on her notepad. 

“Thank you very much Mr. Pharmakós,” she said cheerily. “Now, would you be open to commenting on your romance with our Empress?”

Oh no.  This was what he was afraid of. 

“YOU’RE FUCKING THE EMPRESS?!” yelled Roger in shock.  A hush went over the busy docks.  Many pairs of eyes were looking in their direction.

“Please, yell that again, I do not think the people in Wei Gon heard you,” the Outsider snarked.

Todd looked at him, a hurt look on his face. “Why didn’t you tell us your gal was Empress Emily?”

“Well that is not something you just tell people,” the Outsider replied. “Would you have believed me when I first went to you three and Louie for advice?”

“Well, yes!” replied Todd. “You work at the tower and everyone knows that Kaldwins seem to have a taste for their staff.”

“Saying “a taste for their staff” makes them sound like cannibals Todd,” commented Fergus quietly.

“Is she making ya feel ashamed of your low birth?” Todd pressed.  “Is that why ya don’t want to talk about it?”

“What, no!” the Outsider cried. He tried to say more but Roger cut him off.

“You are more than a scandalous piece of fuckable meat!” he cried. “She should be proud to have you!”

“Er, thanks Roger,” the Outsider replied.  Pericles began to squirm in his arms; thoughtlessly, he put the fish down. “But that is not a problem.”

“Ah, so is it a simple dalliance?” posed the reporter, a keen look in her eyes.

He whirled to face her, eyes boring deep into her paling face. “I would die for her. And while she might not want to do the same for me, she would see me safe and well. I could want no more from a woman.”

There was a beat of quiet as Josie O’Keefe took her notes, her face bloodless. “I see,” she squeaked. “Thank you, I must get going.”

She scurried off, looking somewhat frightened.  The Outsider felt a twinge of guilt in his gut for scaring the poor woman; when he faced his friends he could see they were rather scared too.  Well, only Fergus and Todd that was Roger was nowhere to be seen. 

“Say, where is Roger?”

***

As the Outsider looked around for Roger, Todd in the background yelling for his friend to get “his butt back over here”, he noted that Pericles was also nowhere to be found. 

“Fergus,” he called over the sailor who was kindly plying a longshoreman for information.  The sailor turned to him.

“The fellow just told me that he did see someone who looked like Roger running past here a moment ago,” Fergus said.  “Did you learn anything?”

The Outsider shoved his hands into his pockets. “Pericles is also missing.”

“Pericles?”

“My fish,” he clarified. “Roger was rather fascinated with him, so it would not surprise me that Pericles ran off and Roger ran after him.”

“Oh dear,” Fergus frowned. “Do you know where your fish could have gone?”

The Outsider shifted his vision while sighing, trying to make it look like he was deep in thought.  He found Pericles rather easily- the blobfish was making a beeline for the fashionable sweetshops along the canals of Draper’s Ward, and Roger was in hot pursuit.  The two of them were only a few blocks away.

“Pericles does also have a taste for pastries,” he lied. “Considering that we are nearby the boutiques of Draper’s Ward, that is probably where he is headed.”

Fergus nodded, and called Todd over from the sewer grate he was yelling into. The skinny Hatter joined them, looking rather frazzled.

“It is not like Roger to up and disappear like this,” Todd said, worried. “Do you both have any idea where he went?”

“Owen said that he is likely following his pet fish,” explained Fergus soothingly.  “And said pet is likely headed into Draper’s Ward towards the sweetshops.”

Todd folded his arms across his bright blue coat. “Likely?”

“It is better than the nothing we have right now,” the Outsider pushed back. “In any case, Draper’s Ward is your turf right? We can take a shortcut to the main sweet shops and ask people to keep an eye out for Roger and Pericles.”

Todd grumbled for a moment before nodding.  “I know a shortcut from here to the main streets, follow me.”

***

It turned out that Todd’s shortcut was through a textile factory, one where the machines were curiously silent.  Todd frowned at the building, and his frown only increased as they crept through the empty floor.

“Where are the workers?” ask Fergus quietly, clearly overcome with curiosity.

“I don’t know,” Todd replied. “It is the middle of the day, and the middle of the week.  The floor should be hopping and the machines humming.”

“Perhaps it is closed for some reason,” Fergus suggested.   The Outsider shook his head, shifting his vision to look around the building, searching for people. There was no way this factory was simply closed. 

“No, Fred would rather skin a whale than miss a productive day,” Todd answered as they moved toward the exit.  “It has to be something else…”

“STOP!”

The three of them froze, completely exposed in the open hall between the rows of machines.  There at the end of the hall, just outside the door that leads into the factory yard, stood four men.  Well, that explained why he could not find anyone inside the factory; looking now, they were all outside.

“Outsiders balls,” muttered Todd under his breath. “It’s the fucking union.”

“What is wrong with the union?” asked Fergus, deeply confused.

“They’re a bunch of preachy, self-righteous bastards that’s what,” Todd hissed as the four men approached them.  “Hopefully they will just let us go rather than pressing us to attend one of their little labor rallies.”

“Todd Haricort, spying for the Big Man are you?” sneered a burly man, crossing his arms.  “Looks like you brought friends.”

Todd plastered a smile on his face and approached the group. “William! I assure you, I am not here on Fred’s behalf.  My friend Owen here lost his pet, and we are simply looking in all possible places in the area to find it.”

William grunted, and four pairs of eyes shifted to look at him.  The Outsider chose to stare back at William, assessing what sort of man he was.  Well, he was an irritable husband and not the best of fathers, but he had a strong belief in duty and the rights of the working man. 

“Wait, isn’t that Owen Pharmakós?” said a slight, balding man.  

William turned to look at his companion, surprised. “As in the Empress’ lover and the slayer of that Beast?”

“The very same!” declared Todd with excessive good humor, darting back to pull him forward.  Fergus followed them, rather confused. 

“I must have missed quite a lot while I was away,” he murmured to the Outsider, who only nodded in agreement.  

William faced the lot of them, a grave look on his face. “Now, what is the Empress’ pet doing here, slumming it with the common folk?”

The Outsider swallowed the insult, though he rather wanted to ask if the man thought he was Eulalia.  “As Todd told you, looking for my pet animal. He ran through the area and we saw him come into here.  Since he is not here, we will take our leave and trouble you not.”

Just as he thought, William and his posse were not satisfied.  Todd was brushed away from him as an enormous arm was draped over his shoulders.  Immediately he tensed, and resisted the urge to get out of the grip. 

“I think your pet can survive a few minutes, Pharmakós,” William said airily.  “Since you and your friends decided it would be a good idea to trespass, you certainly would not mind offering your esteemed opinion to the rest of the Union.”

“You have fifteen minutes,” the Outsider replied coldly. “and Fergus and Todd are allowed to go.”

“Twenty and they can go,” William replied.

“Deal,” he agreed, then turned to Todd and Fergus, who were staring at him with concern.  “I’ll find you two later, just go and try to find Pericles and Roger.”

Todd nodded, taking a step back. “Stay safe Owen.”

Fergus simply saluted him and ran off with Todd.   Once more he was alone, and not with a friendly crowd.

The Outsider was herded into the factory yard and behind a makeshift stage.  A charismatic youth was giving a speech about limiting the working hours of each factory, and compensation for injuries suffered on the job.   In the dim light behind the tall crates of wool, William brought him up to a slim pair of older women. 

“Boss, look who we found creeping around!” he declared with glee.

One of the women immediately turned her head to regard him with keen eyes.  She was graying at her temples and her face was lined with age and stress. After a long minute, she turned to William, leveling a sharp glare at the big man.

“Any particular reason as to why you have accosted a member of the Imperial household?”

William lost his eager, gleeful look.  His arm dropped off the Outsider’s shoulders (much to his relief) and he began to stutter.

“Well, we… he agreed to talk!”

She held up a hand, prompting William to shut up. “Mr. Pharmakós, do you know who we are and what we do?”

Well, he did actually.  It did not take much to shift his vision and thoughts, and learn the history and purpose behind this gathering and group.  If he focused more he could even gather the secrets of every person here.  But really, he only cared enough so he could say whatever necessary to get out of the place as quickly as possible.

“I know you are a labor union, and are also advocating for universal suffrage, and before you ask I am not against those things,” he answered.  “I am not a public speaker, and honestly I would rather leave since I was brought here under duress.”

“Come now,” said the other woman, her hair a dark blonde and tucked under a men’s hat. “You are the Empress’ paramour; would it not be good to know the views of someone who is influencing the decisions of our Empress?”

“I am not giving a speech,” he replied flatly.

In a moment of irritation and curiosity, he shifted his vision to see if Todd and Fergus had found Roger and Pericles yet.   Much to his horror, it turned out that they had, and they were currently trying to keep Pericles from eating literally every pastry in a store to little success.  It was only a matter of time before the City Watch arrived.

“Look, I have to go,” the Outsider insisted, cutting off one of the women midsentence.  “If you still want to interview me or something, just send a letter and we will discuss it.”

Without waiting for a response he made a break for a dark corner of the yard and when certain nobody’s eyes were on him, disappeared to meet up with his friends.

***

He should have sucked it up and gave a terrible speech to the union.   At least then he would not have people literally watching out windows as he single-handedly chased Pericles along the canal.

The Outsider had absolutely no idea what happened, but when he arrived the shop was covered in whale oil, Todd and Fergus were out cold, and Roger was in the process of being arrested as Pericles went to town on a plate of macaroons.

“Ea, Pericles!” the Outsider cried, distracting the two city guards and Roger.  Pericles looked up, his ridiculous face covered in frosting and bits of sweets.

“Owen! Thank goodness you are here!” cried Roger.  “These guys think I set Blobert here loose!”

“Ouaí, not you too,” he could not help but groan.  Roger went from relieved to mildly betrayed, the guards looked at each other, bemused.

“Sir, what did you mean by that?” asked the woman guard.

“The fish’s name is Pericles, not Blobert,” the Outsider corrected them.  “And Roger has been trying to stop him from causing trouble, not sic’ing him on others. Please let him go, and I’ll deal with the fish.”

As if on cue Pericles leapt down from the counter and immediately darted through his legs causing Roger to yelp in surprise, and the Outsider to give a growl of frustration before chasing after the damn fish. 

So here he was, shoving people to the side, vaulting over boxes, all to chase after a little shit of a fish. 

“PERICLES YOU LITTLE BASTARD YOU GET YOUR BUTT BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” the Outsider found himself yelling in his cradle tongue as he slid under a table then vaulted down to the docks.  He kept running at full speed as the fish’s blobby legs carried him towards the Wrenhaven.  But at his words, Pericles finally stopped by the dockside, looking at him in bemusement.   Still running, the Outsider closed the distance and snatched up Pericles.  A giddy feeling overwhelmed him, and he cackled as he held the blobfish aloft.

Then he slipped and fell off the dock into the water below. 

Sensing an opportunity, Pericles wriggled out of his grasp, and bowed at him before taking off towards the ocean.   The Outsider was running much too low on air to catch him, and the chill of the water was far too much for him.  With a gasp he rose to the surface, only to see half of Drapers Ward, the union he ran away from, and some of the City Watch looking at him.  It was too late to swim away.

“Did you get rid of the little beast!?” cried round little man dressed in white. 

“Yes?” he replied in confusion. 

The crowd let up a cheer.  Shivering mightily, the Outsider pulled himself out of the water, and ran off to a dark spot.  He needed to get back to the Tower and hide for a few days as he nursed his dignity back to health. 

***

Emily took another look at the clock; the Outsider was late.  She never knew him to miss lunch, no matter what he was doing.  It felt odd to start without him, so much so that she was tempted to summon him just to see if he was alright. He had been rather jumpy and taciturn as of late, on top of being very affectionate and unbelievably protective in the days following the attack. He did not leave her side at all the first two days, the following days she was showered with bonecharms and runes, which she happily accepted.  One morning she woke up to him burning some plant while chanting in his language, his head covered with a cloth.   A week later, things seemed to get back to normal for pretty much everything.  Well, except the fact that some days all but the blandest of foods were at all edible.  But she was not starving and thanks to the little bonecharm doing just fine, so why visit the doctor? 

Emily was snapped out of her thoughts by the Outsider’s arrival.

“My, you are late…” she trailed off, taking in his appearance before jumping to her feet and rushing over to him. “Oh gosh are you alright?!”

He was soaking wet and shivering, his shoes and the hem of his coat covered in whale oil, slime all over his hands, arms and chest.

“Expect a news story about Pericles tomorrow,” he replied faintly.  “If you do not mind, I am going to take a warm bath and try to regain some semblance of dignity.”

“Alright, but I am going to start eating without you,” she warned with a small grin.

The Outsider cracked a smile, then disappeared off to the bathroom, leaving Emily to help herself to the boiled carrots and wonder what on earth Pericles did. 


	36. Chapter 35: Whale Watching

##  Chapter 35: Whale watching

Two months had passed since Billie started training the Outsider, and he was improving rather well, in her opinion.  It certainly helped that he was nimble, and he had a dancer’s skill with footwork. He still needed to work on his knife wielding; the deity had a tendency to stab where there was bone, or use the knife as a way to pry the arm away while he went to bite the throat or face.  Thankfully he only used his teeth when she drilled him with dummies. 

Billie had seen little of the Outsider in the wake of the Áneukhrmato.  He was usually with Emily or out doing who knows what.  Though last week she read quite the news story of his blobfish going on a rampage in the Draper’s  Ward, where the paper declared he had banished “yet another beast”.  Corvo found her wheezing with laugher after reading that story. 

In any case, he appeared in her office without any ceremony and practically demanded to be trained at that very moment.  So here they were, below decks on the _Dreadful Wale_ , the Outsider beating the ever-loving piss out of a sawdust dummy.  Billie earlier watched him almost mechanically work through the non-lethal technique she taught him, cutting forearm, triceps, then inner thigh.  His face was placid, but some thought must have come into his head, because he stopped practicing technique and moved to trying the all the lethal attacks he had learned.  Billie had to admit he was doing well, until he dropped the knife and began using his fingers, fists and teeth on the goddamn dummy, his face contorted in feral hate.

“That’s enough Outsider,” she commanded.   He stopped, and all the aggression just drained out of him.  He turned to face Billie where she stood, leaning against the metal walls of the ship. 

“Not bad, but you need to be able to keep you composure throughout a fight,” she lectured. “Your opponents will be able to take advantage of your lack of composure, and once that is exploited it is far more difficult to win in a fight.”

The Outsider nodded dully, his black eyes fastened on the floor.  There was a brittleness and fragility around him that she had not seen since he found her picking up his terrible love poems.

“Alright, something is eating at you so take a seat and talk,” she grabbed a chair and practically threw it at him, taking a seat atop an empty table. “What’s wrong?”

He caught the chair and sat down, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other.  As far as Billie knew, he never took them off.

“Emily is pregnant.”

Billie felt her jaw drop. “What!? Well, congratulations?”

She would have been more certain in offering her congratulations if the Outsider did not start shaking his head almost fitfully.  “No Billie, she does not know yet.”

“Wait, then how do you-?” she let her question trail off as he took a shaky breath.

“The Áneukhrmato exclusively hunts and consumes pregnant women,” he replied, barely looking up from his hands. “For a while I thought it was just mythological exaggeration, but when I started looking into reports of the creature on Morley and Serkonos, I found that at least three women had been hunted, and all three of them were pregnant.  Not to mention she has had nausea for some time, and has shirked things like fish and spiced vegetables.”

Billie leaned back, covering her mouth in shock at the news about the beast.  It took a moment to find her voice again. 

“Alright, I can imagine that it is rather awkward to know that your lover is pregnant while she is unaware, and I can guess that you do not want to be the one to tell her that,” The Outsider nodded in agreement, looking somewhat sick at the thought.  “Other than Emily not being aware, what is the problem?”

A silence stretched out between them as he fiddled with his rings, the moon-pale patterns on his palms bending with the muscles.  Finally, he spoke in a hesitant stutter.

“I… I am not… someone anyone would choose… to have children with.”

Billie nodded slowly, taking it in before dropping some truth. “You know as well as I do that you have women all over the world who would want your babies.”

He flinched at that, and only looked unhappier.  “Billie, I am not parental material.”

“Says who?” she retorted. “Look, only one person’s opinion about your parenting potential matters, and that is Emily’s.  She is the one having your child, and if she thinks you are up to snuff then fuck the rest.”

She saw the Outsider nod his head, and take another shaky breath.  Finally he looked up at here, black eyes glassy.

“What if I am the only one who wants it?”  The question came out as a strained whisper.   

Ah, this was the real problem. Billie stayed on her perch as he took another shaky breath, and a couple tears fell down his face.  As he quickly wiped them away, she replied softly and kindly.

“Neither of us knows what Emily’s opinion on this matter is.  I doubt either of you have even broached discussing having a family, after all it has not been long since you both got together.  That conversation should happen soon, and you need to make how you feel clear.  But just know you cannot change her mind, whatever her opinion is.   If it makes you feel any better, I think she would be open to having your child.” 

He simply nodded at that.  The deity looked so despondent that Billie was beginning to feel blue too. 

“I don’t know how to start that conversation,” he whispered. “The only thing I can think of is showing her my whales and saying ‘I want something like this’.”  He laughed a bleak laugh. 

“Well, why not?” Billie said, a twinge of hope in her voice. “The _Dreadful Wale_ needs some exercise, and Corvo has been meaning to spar against you.  Let’s take Emily whale watching!”

***

Corvo had rarely seen Emily so excited.  There was certainly much joy to take in having an afternoon off; perhaps what she was looking forward to was visiting the _Dreadful Wale_ , or maybe her excitement lay in the opportunity to spar the Outsider.  Or maybe his love of whales had rubbed off on her and she was eager to see those giant creatures.  Whatever it was, she had been looking forward to it since the Outsider proposed it two days ago.

He heard her hum when she sat to take petitions, her good mood infectious.  Said mood was soured when she left for lunch only to be informed that she had to meet with Minister Cassidy _right then and there_.  They were stuck in the room basically planning for the welcoming masquerade for the King and Queen of Morley for the next three hours.  Thankfully food was provided. 

“Praise be that is over!” Emily cried when they finally got out.  “We are finally free.”

Corvo hummed noncommittally, his hands folded behind his back. He was certainly ready to spar. 

They headed to Billie’s office, Emily practically skipping there as he followed behind.  Corvo felt his age for a moment as an image of young, carefree Emily filled his head.  Ai, where had the years gone?

He was welcomed back into reality by Emily throwing open the door to the office with great enthusiasm.  The Outsider was the only one inside, balancing on one hand atop the desk, staring off into space. His gaze immediately shifted to Emily and a wide smile bloomed on his face.

Corvo wondered if he was ever so obvious in his regard for Jessamine.   He gave his head a small shake, and took a warm coat off a peg.

“Finally finished with deciding how napkins should be folded?” he teased.  Emily laughed and gave him a kiss.

“Next time you will share in the torture with me,” she threatened cheerfully. 

Corvo folded his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. “Where is Lurk?”

“She wanted to make sure the _Dreadful Wale_ was ‘ship shape’ as some would say,” the Outsider finally stopped his balancing act and got to his feet.  “And since you two are here, I can take you to her.”

“Excellent!” Emily was bouncing on the balls of her feet, having donned her warm coat. “Let’s go then!”

Corvo saw the void lick the Outsider’s frame, then the world began to dissolve.  The space they moved in was not the Void, not quite.  He could feel a painful, blistering heat for about a second, and then the world reformed.   Gulls cawed and the sea swayed the ship, he nearly stumbled as the deck rocked beneath his feet.   Emily steadied herself on the Outsider, who hovered just above the wood, unaffected by the sea. He was also now dressed in a long dark coat, stained with whale oil and lined with short fur.  Corvo looked around, they were already far enough out that the shore was far off into the distance. 

“I assume Lurk is currently piloting the ship?” he said, looking up to the wheelhouse. 

“That she is,” the Outsider replied, reaching into the pockets of his coat, pulling out bundle of herbs and a hagfish skull.  “I have promised her to try and smooth the seas a bit, so I must get to the prow.”

Emily let go of him, steady on her feet.  The wind was thankfully not so chilling; the cold was not so pervasive that it could not be chased away by a good spar.  Emily caught his eye, clearly sharing his thought.  With a smirk she got into fighting stance and sprung back a pace.

“Come Corvo, let’s see if your sea legs have arrived yet,” she taunted.  He grinned back.

“They certainly will come to put you in your place!”

It felt good to fight in the open air, to dart around on the empty deck, and for each of them to use their gifts against each other.   It was freeing to just spar without an audience watching from the gardens, or hidden in the crammed basement.  Emily finally got the drop on him, and Corvo found his face introduced to the rough wood.

“I yield!” he assented.   With a large smile, Emily picked him up.  The Outsider was politely watching them, a mildly amused look on his face.

“Was this round to decide who would be the lucky person to face me next?” he said, his arms crossed.

Emily laughed.  “Unfortunately for me, Corvo has called dibs on you first.”

“Do not fret, you will certainly have me later,” he replied, his voice lilting with the innuendo. Corvo rolled his eyes.  Emily stifled a giggle and took a seat on the deck by the starboard.

“Try not to break each other!” she warned, eyes dancing with amusement. 

“I promise,” the Outsider uttered at the same time as him. Corvo was suddenly cautious, remembering the bloody cargo hold of the boat in Lady Boyle’s wall.  Did the Outsider know how to pull his punches?

It was only on instinct and training from decades of fighting that he dodged the Outsider’s first move, an open palm strike aimed at his shoulder.  Corvo immediately moved to retaliate, successfully grabbing his opponent’s left arm and forcing it behind his back.  Instead of making the usual pained noise, the Outsider twisted his body to the left with surprising speed, taking Corvo with him.  As he flew to the side, the Outsider pushed the two down to the ground, his arm still pinned behind his back.  Corvo landed on his left shoulder, and he felt hot breath against his exposed throat.

“And this is where I would tear out their esophagus,” the Outsider said coolly, his body contorted in ways Corvo did not think possible.  “Of course, if I had a knife I could also slash up the thighs. It would not take too long to bleed out from that.”

Emily applauded from the sidelines. “I should have mentioned this, but he is very flexible Corvo!”

The Outsider dissolved out of his grip, and then reformed, his hand outstretched as he stood over him.  Corvo took it and the Outsider pulled him up. 

“The pin you did with my arm is rather neat, could you teach me that?” he asked curiously.

Somewhat surprised, Corvo nodded.

***

It delighted Emily to see Corvo bonding a bit with the Outsider, even if it was through fighting.   It was fun to see such fights, watching the Outsider dart around and display his flexibility, and Corvo plot around his unconventional moves.  One fight ended up with Corvo claiming victory as he sat on the Outsider’s back, out of biting and kicking range.  Emily could not contain her amusement at that sight.   Billie came down from the wheelhouse at the same time and walked right over to her.

“What is going on?”

Emily got up and stretched, giving a nod to Billie. “Corvo is sparring with the Outsider.  So far this has been the best way to get him to surrender.”

Billie actually looked surprised. “That’s the one that worked best?”

“Well, what worked with you?” asked Corvo, raising an eyebrow. The Outsider, clearly done with tolerating being sat on, dissolved and reformed, standing a few feet away from Billie, who eyed him.

“We actually haven’t sparred, I only teach the techniques and see if he is performing them correctly.”

“Well would you like to try?” offered Emily.  It would be interesting to see what the former assassin could do against the Outsider.

“Perhaps later,” Billie demurred with a small smile. “The reason I have come down is that I have spotted some spouts about a mile from here, and I would prefer if your whales don’t attempt to capsize my ship.”

The Outsider’s eyes widened. “Oh no.”

He immediately tore off his long coat and ran towards the edge of the boat, cursing in his language as he shed his shoes, his jacket, and his shirt before leaping over the side of the boat.  Concerned, Emily rushed over to where he last stood and looked over the side.  There was a ring of white foam, and telltale ripples across the surface of the sea.  Billie and Corvo joined her at the railing, looking down into the water as well.

“Did he just jump into the winter sea?” asked Corvo with quiet bemusement.

“Yes, but what for?” Billie replied, sounding somewhat cross. 

Moments later Emily could see the water bulge, then the surface break into a brilliant spray as a whale surfaced by ship, the Outsider perched on its brow.  He was petting the beast, his pale skin gleaming in the bright afternoon sunlight.   She relaxed, seeing him well.  The Outsider finally looked up, a look of pure delight on his face.

“I am sorry about Alkippe!” he yelled up.  “She’s simply a little protective at the moment.”

“Protective of what?” Emily could not resist asking.

He flicked his arm as if tossing something up and a bonecharm appeared before her.  Emily plucked it out of the air; as soon as she touched it she felt enveloped in a cloud of warmth. 

“Come down here and you will see!” the Outsider replied cheekily. 

Emily smirked down at him as she securely attached the bonecharm to the lining of her jacket, and shed her now too-warm outer coat. Opting to keep the rest of her clothes on, she reached down and pulled herself to land beside the Outsider on Alkippe the whale.   The creature snorted, coating Emily with spray.

“Come!” the Outsider gestured with head towards the glimmering water. “I will properly introduce you.”

He jumped into the water, and after taking a deep breath Emily followed.  The water was clear and sunlight streamed down.  She nearly lost her breath seeing how the patterns on the Outsider’s skin glowed an eerie purple blue, muted in the bright light.  He stopped his dive down and looked up, holding out a hand to her.   She swam to him and took it, floating beside him.   Before her, a big brown eye peered back at her.

_Alkippe, this is Emily; Emily, this is Alkippe._ His voice, clear as a bell, echoed slightly in her head.

Emily, uncertain with how to properly greet a whale, decided on a modified curtsy. 

“It is an honor to meet you,” she tried to project in her thoughts.

The sea vibrated as Alkippe groaned, her dark eye still fixed on Emily.  Emily suppressed the urge to hide behind the Outsider, worried as to what such a noise could mean.  The Outsider squeezed her hand reassuringly and pulled her against him.

_She likes you._ The thought was sweetly whispered.  _Come to the surface, we will meet Idyia there._

Emily nodded in agreement.  Such a move was well timed, she was beginning to run low on air.  She let go of the Outsider’s hand and swam up to the surface, eager for air and curious as to who this “Idyia” was.  When she surfaced, Corvo immediately called down to her.

“Emily!” he was leaning over the railing, looking rather worried. “Are you alright? Are you cold?”

“I am fine!” she yelled back, giving her father thumbs up. “I have a bonecharm that keeps me warm.” 

“Stay safe!” Billie added. “Whales are rather fickle creatures!”

Emily could hear the Outsider snort beside her. “There is nothing fickle about a whale,” he grumbled, looking out into the sea behind her.  She turned around to follow his gaze, and in that moment saw a little whale shoot out of the water, fins jutting out, and flop onto its back.  The Outsider laughed as they were sprayed by the water.

“That is Idyia, Alkippe’s calf!” he said as the baby swam beneath them, pushing its forehead against their feet.

“Ah, that explains why she charged the ship,” Emily replied with realization. “What is Idyia doing?”

“Swim to where the boat is, I’ll show you,” his voice was brimming with excitement.  Emily raised an eyebrow, but followed his instructions. 

It seemed what he and the little whale needed was clearance, as just as soon they were given enough space, Idyia leapt out of the water, pushing the Outsider up with her.  As for her lover, he took advantage of the boost to do a rather lovely backflip and land on Idyia’s nose.  Delighted, Emily clapped.

“Bravo! You and Idyia make quite the duo!” she cheered, much to the Outsider’s clear joy. Idyia sank down under the water and, now submerged, he swam over to her.

“She’s the most acrobatic one of the pod, though that might be what would kill her earliest if she was not under my protection,” he explained somewhat breathlessly. “Come, let me introduce you to the others!”

“Others?” Emily could not help the question.

“Why yes it is a pod of whales,” the Outsider looked at her somewhat curiously. “They are rarer now, but that is usually how whales raise their calves.”

“Did you free a bunch of mother whales?” she asked, amused.  Looking out towards the horizon she could count six more spouts, the rest of the pod.  His black eyes followed hers and a soft expression took over his face.

“Only Dámalis had a calf when she was captured, the poor thing was half dead from starvation when I found it.  Amόra and Alkippe were simply pregnant at the time.  The other two are Dústhlastos and Ainόdruptos, the former a juvenile male and the latter an old female.”

“Did the calf survive?” Emily asked in a hushed voice.  How many calves died because their mothers were carted off to be drained of their oil and gutted?

“Aye, Limṓdēs lived, praise be!” The Outsider looked delighted that she had asked. “He is afraid of ships so we would have to swim out to meet him.”  A sudden hesitancy took over his face. “Would you like to do that?”

She smiled at him. “I am still in the water aren’t I?”

A relieved smile appeared, erasing the anxious uncertainty that used to be there. “Come, follow me then.”

Emily followed him as he dove into the blue water, swimming around Alkippe and energetic Idyia.          Ahead of them was a heavily scarred whale missing most of its teeth ( _Ainódruptos_ , the Outsider whispered into her mind), another chasing a school of fish far below them ( _Dústhlastos_ , he murmured again).  Just beyond were two calves and their mothers.    Emily kept close to the Outsider, who came to a halt a distance ahead of the quartet.   One of the calves peeled away and swam straight for the Outsider.   With a grin on his face, he more or less leapt over the big baby, who shot past them, bubbles flowing around it. 

“ _That is Bḕsalon, Amóra’s calf.  He thinks it is a great game to try to ram things, which is good practice for when he grows up.”_   He lifted his arm and pointed at a rather slender whale that was placidly floating nearby. _“That is Amóra.  The one with spots all over like a dairy cow is Dámalis, and Limṓdēs is right by her side.”_

Running out of air they rose to the surface.  As Emily took a welcome breath the Outsider regarded her expectantly. 

“They are a lovely bunch, I never realized whales were so playful or the mothering type,” she said.  Even though it was true Emily felt somewhat awkward, like she had not said enough.  But what else could she say about whales? It was not like they could hold a conversation with her.

Much to her relief he seemed to be satisfied with that answer. “You picked up on the things I like the most about whales, alongside the songs they sing when they are alone.  Amóra, Dámalis, and Alkippe are going to stay together until their calves are fully grown, and then the pod will separate until they fall pregnant again.  Then they will find each other, and with any luck die to old age and not the whaler’s harpoon.”

“With any luck? Do they not bare your mark?” she teased.

“That they do,” he replied somewhat sheepishly. “But there is only so much I can teach them, Idyia and Bḕsalon already have taken a shine to humans, the curious little things they are.”

“You speak of them like they are your children,” Emily continued with the teasing tone.  The Outsider flushed red, and his face went somewhat serious.

“I suppose I do,” he murmured, averting his eyes to look down into the water. “While I would rather have a child of my own, I am happy to try to guide them and keep them safe.”

He admitted his desire like it was something shameful.  No, that was not quite right.  He seemed to be rather afraid of what her reaction was going to be, with his eyes adverted and body turned away from her.   Emily reached out and took his hand as she thought, giving it a squeeze to try and convey her affection as she remained silent.

Children were not something she really ever thought about, even though having at least one was required of any Empress.  Sooner or later one of her councilors would begin to nag about it; before the coup her minister of Gristol would go on long speeches about the “joys of motherhood” intertwined with “duty to the empire” and the occasional disgusted look at Wyman.  Poor capable Martha, six feet under after spitting in Delilah’s face.   She would probably approve of the Outsider a lot more, especially after knowing about his willingness to have children.  

“Will you introduce them to the whales?” she said quietly, leaning her head on his.  

“Of course,” he replied with great certainty. “Once they are old enough to swim, however old that is.”

Emily hummed, charmed by his answer and the image of a child meeting a whale. Perhaps one day she would have a child, perhaps she will never have a child.  But if she was to have one, she would want it to be the Outsider’s.  Emily nearly laughed at how odd the thought was.  Who would guess that the god of the Void would make good parenting material? 


	37. Chapter 36: Masquerade

##  Chapter 36: Masquerade

In Greta’s opinion, one would have to live under a rock to not know the King and Queen of Morley coming to Dunwall for their state visit.  It was all the papers would talk about, producing long pieces on how matters stood between Morley and Gristol, short ones listing all the upcoming soirees and Royal Appearances, and sleazy ones theorizing that the King and Queen would take Owen’s status of paramour as an affront.  On the streets one could easily hear the City Watch complain about all they had to do to prepare for the visit, starting on the 22nd day of the month, and ending a swift three days later. 

The only effect this hubbub had on Greta’s life was putting a pause on her visits to the Tower.  Emily was far too busy for even twenty minutes of tea, something Greta did not envy.  In any case, they will see each other again when the King and Queen left town.  The pauses were good for her too, as the chapel archive was recently donated a box of old herbal books that needed to be noted and sorted.  Tonight she was getting the finishing touches on her notes for the last one.  Her eyes swam as she blearily gazed at the archaic print.  The small clock on the wall chimed seven times.

“Crap!” Greta cried, tearing her eyes from the book to the clock face.  She did not mishear, it was indeed seven at night, she had missed dinner.   Her stomach gurgled sadly at the thought.

“Well there is no use continuing now,” she grumbled aloud, mentally kicking herself as she put away the book and her notes for it.    Might as well go back to her room and meditate before going to bed early.  She walked through the quiet halls and opened her room door.

“Greta!” There was Elanor, sitting on the bed. Greta, surprised, stood dumbly in the doorway.  The star beckoned her forward, and Greta found herself walking into the room, the door closing on its own behind her. “How would you like to go to a masquerade?”

“Huh?”

Elanor sighed, a tad exasperated at her confusion.  “The welcome ball is a masquerade! Would you like to go with me?”

“Go with you?” Greta said. “I’m flattered, but I don’t have anything to wear.”

The star crossed her arms and snapped her fingers.  Greta watched in awe as her clothes changed from her uniform of white and black to a dapper coat and pants of red and gold.  Floating just in front of her was a fox mask; she reached out and took it.  Elanor smiled at her.

“Now you have an outfit!”

“Thank you very much!” Greta darted over to her small mirror and carefully put on the mask.  It fit wonderfully, showing her eyes, mouth and chin.  When she turned around she saw Elanor wearing an engraved metal mask that covered her eyes. Matching cat ears neatly poked out of her blond hair, her regular ears covered to further the illusion.  She wore a snappy suit of white trimmed with fur and with buttons of gold. 

“Ready to go get some free food?” Elanor said, her bright red lips parted in an eager grin.

Greta’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. “Definitely!”

***

Billie stood beside the Outsider in the main hall as they waited for Corvo and Emily to come down.  Captain Otte was off talking to the guards in the corner, dressed like his normal self like all members of the City Watch.  Billie could not help but envy him.  There was something so terribly confining about fancy suits.  The blasted bat mask was not helping matters.  At least she looked sharp, even with the ridiculous bat wing cape.

The Outsider seemed relaxed under the Áneukhrmato’s strange skin, its head and snout pulled over his head like a hood, toothy attached jawbones framing his face.  He further painted the top half of his face a sooty black.   Billie looked down and frowned.

“Where are your shoes?”

The Outsider continued to stare straight ahead, but a frown twitched at the corner of his lips for a moment. “Luiz did not regard them as “sufficient”. So we worked around not wearing any.”

“Going for the wandering performer look?” she asked dryly, casting a critical eye on his ribbon-wrapped calves. 

“Might as well look the street rat I am at heart,” he snarked.  They were quiet for a moment, watching the maids file into place.  It would not be long now before the ball was going to start. Billie inhaled deeply, then out slowly, her hands tense behind her back.

“I know you feel as out of place like I do,” the Outsider murmured quietly. 

“Not quite right there,” she replied back with a bit of a snap. “As the Spymaster I belong here.  I cannot help the minds of people who will think that I do not belong here.”

“You are right, people are going judge us for our low birth no matter how noble our position is now,” he placidly stared forward, his black eyes focused on the wall across from them.  “So why are you so anxious?”

Damn the bastard. Billie exhaled through her nose, rattling her mask. “I am sure you know why.”

He hummed. “Your manners are fine Lurk.  Royalty does not awe you so you shall not trip over your tongue like a fool.  Your stance is proud, not one ounce of your nature is servile.  When you do serve, it is out of respect.  Be at ease, no one will walk over you.”

“What about you?” Billie countered.

His lips curled up into a sharp smile, revealing elongated eye teeth.  “It will be fun to see what people try with me.”

“Hopefully nobody will try anything untoward.”

Their heads turned to see Emily walking down the stairs, closely followed by Corvo. Emily was dressed in brilliant shades of blue, her long jacket sleeves made to look like bird wings, her hair up in a series of braids enwoven with shimmering blue ribbons and the top her face only just hidden by the delicate bird mask.  She was clearly meant to be Eulalia, who was proudly perched on her shoulder.  Corvo was dressed like a menacing raven, all in elaborate embroidered black, complete with a short feathered cloak.  Tailor Luiz had really gone all out for the two of them.   

Billie finally glanced at the Outsider and nearly burst out laughing at his poleaxed expression.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed, admiration in his tone and adoration on his face.

Emily approached him, eyes scanning him up and down, an appreciative smile upon her lips. “As do you my dear.”

The clock chimed seven times, prompting Corvo to clear his throat. The two split apart, and everyone took their places.  It was time for them to welcome the guests.

***

A hundred of some of the most important people of Gristol and Morley under one roof called for skilled security.  It was nothing that Corvo had not arranged before, and Captain Otte was a pleasure to work with.  This was, however, the first time in over ten years that he was not fully privy to the activities of the spymaster.  Billie and the Outsider seemed to think that there will be an assassination attempt on the O’Conner Dons, the rulers of Morley.  The mere thought of such a thing happening gave him a headache.  Masquerades were an assassin’s dream come true, as he knew all too well.  But that was Billie’s problem.  Only was it when assassins turn their sights to Emily did it become his. 

The steady stream of guests was all familiar so far.  There was the Inchmouths as hagfish, the Whites as herons, Baron Griess a hare, Chopin an ice bear, Solokov as a whale, Esma Boyle a swan.  Sinjean DeLuc and Marius Silva shocked him by making a beeline for the Outsider after the briefest of greetings with Emily and talking with him for a good five minutes. A stern Elys Cassidy marked the end of the Gristol guests and the beginning of the Morley delegation. 

“Oh Empress you look splendid!” Queen Gracie glided over, her grey hair masterfully arranged around a pair of short antlers.  She held out her hands to Emily and she took them with a warm smile.

“As do you highness,” Emily replied earnestly. “It is truly good to see you after so long.”

Gracie gave her hands a fond squeeze.  “I look forward to having a nice long chat with you.”

“As am I!”

The old King leaned heavily on his beautiful cane as he made his way over Emily and his wife.  Gracie let go of Emily’s hands, and took her left hand and bestowed a kiss upon the signet ring. 

“It is truly a pleasure to be in your court once more Empress.”

“Please, let us do away with titles for the evening,” Emily declared warmly.  The King and Queen laughed.

“As you wish Emily dear.”

With an incline of their heads they made their way over to Elys, who would take them to the elevator.   Corvo allowed himself a smile under his mask.  He always loved how kindly the O’ Conner Dons treated Emily, how they held deep and genuine affection for her.  It was good to see that it was still there.

“Empress Emily,” Merida Fitzpatrick bowed before Emily.  “I want to warn you that my brother and his wife are actually attending tonight.”

“Thank you for the warning Merida,” Emily replied gently.  “Thank you for coming.”

“It is my honor to attend.”

Just as Merida warned, Wyman was there with his little pregnant wife.  Mercifully their greetings were polite and short.  The rest of the line flew by, and finally, with the last person introduced and welcomed, they could join in the festivities.

***

Greta knew something was up when they simply appeared in the Music room instead of the typical entrance line. 

“Elanor, were you actually invited?” she asked warily.

“It is a masquerade,” the star replied lightly before moving to sit at the harp.  “No one will notice us as uninvited guests.”

Greta heaved a sigh as Elanor started plucking at the harp. “That does not mean we should crash it! This is also a state event! They are probably going to start with a fancy dinner beforehand, and seating is of **utmost** importance. We are not going to be able to sit for dinner!”

Elanor stopped her harp playing. “Truly?”

“Truly!” cried Greta, a touch horrified. “Let’s just go before we can get in trouble.”

“Nonsense!” Elanor stood up. “There is a way around this little roadblock.”

Greta threw up her hands.  “How?!”

Elanor sat back down by the harp, and began strumming.  The music was ethereal and distorting.  The next thing she knew Greta found herself seated at the dinner table between her childhood friend Lydia Fitzpatrick, neé King. and the Outsider. Down the table between Esma Boyle and beautiful black-haired women she had never seen before was Elanor.  Lydia was chatting aimlessly about how beautiful everything is and how nice it was to see Greta back where she belongs.   The Outsider, however, was staring at her with disapproval. Nobody but him was looking at her strangely.  Whatever Elanor did, it worked.

“By the way, how did you get invited Greta?” Lydia asked innocently. “I thought you were still a Blind Sister.”

“Oh I am,” Greta replied with a short laugh. “Empress Emily and I are friends; that was how I was invited.”

The Outsider coughed into his soup, a cough that suspiciously sounded like the word “bullshit”. 

“Friends? Wyman never mentioned you being around the palace before,” replied Lydia, sounding confused.

“We became friends after my chapel helped her clear the Tower of Delilah’s witches,” Greta said quickly before helping herself to the delicious soup.   

“Ooooh, I see!” the blonde finally turned to her own bowl.   

Most everyone around the table was carefully eating, some around their masks, others having to hold snouts and beaks out of the way.  Greta glanced up at the head of the table to see Corvo was in the latter camp, with the tip of the beak in danger of dipping into the soup at any moment.  At that moment she was stuck by how silly it was to have a masquerade ball with an official dinner.  Finishing up her bowl, Greta peeked to her left, wondering if the Outsider’s manners improved.  To her surprise, she saw an empty bowl.  Empty, as in it looked like nothing had been placed in it.  All silverware sat in their places, untouched.  Confused, she gave him a look and opened her mouth.

“So Lydia, you and Wyman Fitzpatrick huh?”  What, that was not what she meant to say at all.  Greta glared at the Outsider who stared back at her with his black eyes glinting with a hint of challenge.  A shiver crept up her spine.  Best heed the unspoken warning and embrace Lydia as her conversation partner.

Lydia lit up at the question. “Oh, it has been a dream! He and I have been in correspondence since the last Month of High Cold, and when he stepped off that boat six months ago we have scarcely been separated. Not to mention we are expecting our first child together.  Greta dear, I feel my life has been fulfilled!”

“That’s wonderful,” Greta forced a smile to her face.  From the bits and pieces she heard about Wyman Fitzpatrick she doubted that Lydia’s joy would last.  After all, the fellow cheated on Emily for crying out loud, imagine what they would do to a naïve fool like Lydia.

A bell rang, and the soup was taken away in a coordinated clearing by the wait staff, all wearing simple black masks that went with their uniform.  Moments later they laid the new course before them, a delicately prepared dish of chilled Wei Gon puffer fish.  Lydia made a noise of disappointment beside her.

“Oh I was hoping they would not serve this!” she bemoaned quietly.  “I have always wanted to try it, but pregnant ladies should not eat uncooked fish.”

“Oh that’s a shame,” Greta remarked absently, picking up her fork. 

“At least I’m not alone it seems,” Lydia continued thoughtfully. “The Empress does not seem to be too fond of the dish either.”

Greta looked up to the table’s head and saw that Lydia was right, Emily was completely ignoring the dish as she chatted animatedly with Queen Gracie. 

“Huh,” she found herself saying aloud. Was Emily’s stomach complaint back?  Did she ever see the doctor about it?  “Why would the Empress have a dish she will not eat on the menu?”

“Because it is expensive, and King Seamus likes it above all fish dishes,” the Outsider replied, his head also inclined to look down at Emily. 

“I did not realize that Emily stopped liking puffer fish.” 

Greta found her eyes pulled to the person sitting directly across from the Outsider, a svelte golden-haired beauty with blue eyes peering out from behind his stag mask.  Greta realized with a jolt that the person was Wyman Fitzpatrick.

“It is a recent development,” the Outsider replied airily, plate before him empty like it was never covered with food once more.  

Wyman hummed, handling his fish with perfect manners and grace.  Greta could not stop her eyes from darting between the two of them, trying to cover up her curiosity with a mouthful of puffer fish.  She nearly gagged on the strong taste, and had to fight it down to maintain her manners.  Lydia, for her part, stared openly at the Outsider from behind her doe mask.

“Wait, are you Owen Pharmakós, the Beast Killer?” she asked, wide eyed.  The Outsider turned to face her, politely detached.

“I suppose that is my title now.  And you are the lovely little Lydia Fitzpatrick.”

Lydia tittered, clearly delighted by his somewhat stilted tone. “That is indeed me!  Tell me, what was it like to go up against such a horrible beast?”

Her questions seemed to be drawing some attention, as even behind the many masks Greta could see eyes move and heads tilt.  A small frown bloomed on the Outsider’s face.

“There was a strange quality to it, much like seeing a green sky or blue grass.  Such creatures should not be, yet it was there nonetheless. Spymaster Lurk and the Royal Protector spent more time fighting it.  Greta here was also among the people who spent more time fighting it than I did.”

“Indeed?” Wyman sounded faintly interested.  Lydia squealed in horror.

“You fought the beast?!”

Greta winced. “Well, not really?  I was just there to make sure Emily did not get hurt or eaten.  I just helped her run from it.”

“Emily, running from a fight?” Now Wyman was giving the conversation his full attention. “That does not sound like her.”

“She certainly did not like it,” Greta said firmly. “But she liked living far better than getting torn to bits and eaten alive.”

“It was not a beast that you could fight with normal weapons,” the Outsider’s face was carefully blank. “Are you not aware of its nature?”

Wyman tilted his head. “Why would I be?”

A look of pure disbelief flashed across the Outsider’s face. “Because you are third in line for the throne of Morley and at least three women have been killed by a beast prowling your Ballyrood estate.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Wyman shrugged. “That’s a matter concerning my estate agent.  I’ll put him in touch with you about that.”

The bell rang again, and the plates were taken away.  Suppressed dislike was coming off the Outsider in waves.  Greta tried not to shudder.  Perhaps she could distract Lydia with talk of fashion; she always did like to be in on the latest trends.

***

When they were finally released from dinner to mingle and dance the Outsider could not contain his sigh of relief.  Perhaps he could escape away to his room and eat his dinner in peace.  He did not dare to try his hand at table manners while seated across perfect little Wyman.  What a creature he was! A wonderful noble, delightful conversationalist, and pleasant to his wife and peers, impeccable manners, and a terrible landlord; a prime example of the Morlean nobility.  He was someone the Outsider could do without. 

But alas, that was not to be. 

“I thought you might be interested in joining me and a few others for a game?”  The invitation posed by Wyman as they stood was not so much an offer as a carefully concealed command.  He swallowed his ire at being ordered about, and affected distant curiosity.

“Oh?  What sort of game?”

A coy smirk appeared on Wyman’s face.  “Oh just a little twist on a simple childhood game.  Come, and you will see.”

Damn his curiosity.  He followed the noble, unable to help but wonder what the game was. They entered the library, and found a group of seven young men already chatting around a large table.  They were all part of the Morley delegation, young nobles eager to make connections and have a good time.  One in a mouse mask turned to them and a smile crossed his face.

“Fitzpatrick! I see you managed to bring along Pharmakós!”

“Indeed I did,” Wyman declared somewhat smugly as he took a seat, glancing up at him expectantly.   Reluctantly, the Outsider took the final empty seat. “I see we timed ourselves perfectly!”

The Outsider followed his eyes to see the table was laden with dishes, filled with things that he could recognize and some that he could not.

“You have yet to explain this game to me,” he said dryly.  Several of the men chuckled.

“Well it is quite simple Phramakós,” Wyman explained flippantly. “We take turns posing questions. We all have to answer the question, or eat a dish of the questioner’s choice.  Oh, we also make bets to see how long it takes before someone throws up, as well as who will be the first to throw up and other such things.”

Throw up?  What on earth about these dishes would make anyone throw up?  Were they putrid? None smelled like they were too far gone.  Unsure what to say, he just nodded. At least this was not a drinking game.  It would not do to make himself a fool.

“Alright!” declared the youth behind the cat mask with a clap of his hands. “Since we are all here, I will start. How much was your income last month?”

The Outsider felt his stomach rumble.  Void he was _starving_.  He could barely pay attention to each man giving their answers. 

“Pharmakós, Boyle, Erne, last chance to say anything, or else you shall eat the fish eyes.” 

Fish eyes? Why those weren’t half bad when fresh.  Without thinking too hard about the question even posed the Outsider simply grabbed one of the several small plates and began popping them into his mouth.  Oh, these _were_ fresh.  Better yet, someone seasoned them with some pepper!

“Holy fuck Pharmakós!”

He opened eyes he did not realize that he closed and saw many slack jaws and wide eyes.  

“What?  Have none of you eaten fish eyes before?”

“No!” they replied in astonished chorus.  The Outsider shrugged and finished cleaning the plate. 

The next question was posed, something about who they hated the most.  The food was bull testicles.  So he kept his mouth shut and tried to make it look like he was not eager to eat such a thing.  But come on! Eating bull testicles brought good luck and health. 

“Have you ever broken the law?” posed a sly youth behind a ferret mask.

What was the food for this question?  From the great deal of uncomfortable shifting he supposed that he would be sharing whatever was challenged.

“Come now, do you really want to eat the jellyfish?” crooned the questioner.

Jellyfish! Now that took him back.  One just needed to find the right sort and just suck them up with some fresh water or wine.  He glanced around and was pleased to find that there was a glass of water within reach.  So he just picked up the little dish, took his glass, and plopped the jellyfish inside, before sucking down the whole thing with learned care.

The Outsider earned maybe one awed glance from the mouse-masked noble, the rest were engrossed in the Otter-mask’s story of shoplifting some of King’s Brandy from the distillery shop.  He did one more glance at the table.  It was almost as if these fellows were making things easy for him!  Best to sit back and absorb the secrets as he always did. 

***

Emily watched the dancers neatly make their way around the floor as she stood by the King and Queen, both far too old to keep up with the faster paced dances, but eager to watch.  Emily herself was not too keen to dance.  Something she ate was not particularly agreeing with her right now.  Eulalia twittered on her shoulder, whistling along to the music every now and then.

“So my dear, we have heard you have gotten yourself a new man,” Gracie broached lightly.

Emily hummed. “That is indeed the case, especially since the previous partner saw fit to depart without so much a by-your-leave.”

Gracie winced at that. “I am truly sorry Wyman did that.  The lad had no idea how good he had it, and it was cruel to abandon you like so.”

“It was for the best,” Emily soothed, giving a smile. “He and Lydia seem to care for each other and Owen is a far more supportive partner.”

Gracie nodded. “Well, it is true that Lydia is a good wife for him.  I am happy to hear that Owen makes you happy but…”

Emily let the silence ebb, waiting for Gracie to finish her thought.

“But what?” she prompted, after a moment too long of silence.

Gracie waved her off. “It is probably nothing, but I have heard rumors.  Petty ones.  Emily dear, I would like to meet him properly though, it would sooth my doubts.”

The small quartet played the last bars as those on the floor came to a stop and traded bows.  As some couples left the floor, Emily noticed a pack of young men make their way along the walls to the quartet, the Outsider among them.  Even across the crowded room she could sense his discomfort.  The group descended on the quartet, and seemed to be in intense discussion with the four.   The remaining couples on the ballroom floor stared at the gathering in confusion and a small amount of disgruntlement. 

“What are they doing over there?” asked Gracie with a frown.

“Attempting to settle a bet, your highness.”

Emily started at the familiar voice.  She turned to her right and saw Greta, dressed in a smart red suit and a fox’s mask. 

“Settle a bet?” she asked, pushing aside the confusion she felt at Greta’s presence.  What on earth was she doing here?

“From what I could tell Owen was challenge to eat whale, refused, and instead of eating whale he is to dance or something,” Greta explained with a shrug. “We will see.”

Eulalia let out a huff, then took off from her shoulder.  Emily tried to follow her with her eyes but the little bird disappeared quickly in the crowd around them.

The dance floor was cleared out by the men, accompanied by a great deal of grumbling. The quartet had put down their instruments; one member was now holding an accordion.  Beside them was a cat masked woman in white, holding a drum.   There was a beat of silence, tense with curiosity.  Then the drummer began to play a fast, intense beat.  Emily could see the Outsider approach the edge of the dance floor, face carefully blank.  The accordion began to play an energetic tune utterly unfamiliar to her ears, complementing the beat of the drum. 

The Outsider took two long, rapid steps before gracefully throwing himself into the air, landing upon his knees near the middle of the dance floor.  Almost immediately he sprung up to his feet and pivoted, moving using his knees and toes.  It was mesmerizing to see how rapidly he could move, how graceful he made the aggressive postures.  How delightful it was to see how well he moved!  How flawlessly he spun and balanced on the tips of his toes to the edge of his heel.  How well he controlled the jagged movements of his arms. 

Emily did not realize she was standing to applaud until the music stopped, the room filled with applause rather than the drumbeats.  The Outsider stood tall, arms held back and stance wide, his face blank and eyes relieved.  Emily clapped as hard she could, trying to show him how much she appreciated him.  Beside her Greta wolf-whistled, an act mimicked by Merida off to the right. 

“I can see why you choose him,” Gracie murmured in her ear. “If he beds half as well as he dances he is quite the catch.”

Emily did not know what to say to that. 

The Outsider finally relaxed, bowing to her and Gracie before leaving the dance floor, returning to the pack of men who started the whole matter.  She would have watched them if it was not for Lydia King-Fitzpatrick, Merida, and another woman wearing a seal mask descending upon her. 

“Dear Empress, your lover is quite the dancer!” declared Merida excitedly. “It almost made me see the appeal in men.”

The dark-haired woman on Merida’s arm laughed. “A bold statement from you, my hawk! I personally was not expecting a dance like that from a man such as him.  It was so martial!”

“A man such as him?” Emily asked, her tone tightly controlled and unamused.  Merida had the good manners to look embarrassed, but the other woman stared back at her plainly, her pale blue eyes unashamed and judging. 

“Well,” Lydia piped up from Gracie’s side. “We have heard he was a, _ahem_ , dancer before the Spymaster took him into her employ.”  She glanced up at Gracie, who nodded somewhat sheepishly.

Emily slid her gaze over to Greta, who was also staring at the four women with a touch of dumbfounded irritation. 

“A ‘dancer’?” she drawled, stretching out the uncomfortable moment.

“Yes, was he one or was he not?” the seal-masked woman declared, chin tipped aloft.

“Arabel!” Merida cried, mortified. “You cannot ask such a thing!”

“Ask what?”  Seamus made his way over to his wife, cane in one hand and a glass of whiskey in another. Emily greeted him with a nod before casting a judgmental eye on the women.

“Asking whether or not my lover was once a prostitute,” she declared frankly.

Lydia gasped and covered her mouth, horrified to hear such brazen vulgarity.  Gracie too placed a hand over her heart, looking rather faint.  Seamus himself was aghast.

“A prostitute?! Oh Emily, do tell me that it is not so!”

Emily tried to swallow her utter offense. Of course she would not take on a prostitute as her lover, she had standards for crying out loud! In assuming the worst about the Outsider they were also assuming the worst about her.  How dare they, were they not friends?

Greta scoffed loudly, yet politely into her glass of wine.  “Please, your majesty, tell me that you do not think so poorly of the Empress?”

Seamus opened his mouth then closed it, much like a fish.  His cheeks flushed and he took a gulp from his glass.

“YOUR MAJESTY, DON’T SWALLOW!”

It was Billie, running from the hallway, followed by a shrieking Eulalia.  But it was too late, in his surprise, Seamus swallowed. 

***

The brown-haired pelican and green-clad snake caught Billie’s attention soon after dinner.  The two were poor minglers, and seemed more at ease talking to the staff than other guests.  Even so, they paid a keen attention to King Seamus.  Billie tried to keep an eye on them, an act that was difficult as it seemed that many people were keen on talking to her.  Admirals Haddock and Branson took up a good fifteen minutes discussing coordinated efforts between the military and the spymaster’s office.  That was ended by Esma Boyle drunkenly cutting in to introduce herself to Billie and steal Admiral Branson for a dance.  She was then dragged onto the dance floor by an overeager Captain Otte on his break for a miserable quickstep.  Getting free of that was quite the relief.

And a stroke of luck, because as she left the dance floor, what did she see, but pelican and snake talking to one of the waiters; A new fellow by the name of Patrick, a Morlean with suspicious ties to anti-royalist groups, most predominantly the O’Conner Don-hating Threshers.  Allowing him to be hired was a gamble on her part, a gamble the Outsider was thankfully endorsing.  Catching the Threshers in the act and arresting them would indebt the O’Conner Dons to Emily, further ensuring their loyalty to the Empress. 

So she kept an eye on Patrick soon after pelican and snake left him, following him at a practiced distance.  He made his rounds, cheerfully offering drinks and in general being unsuspicious.  When his tray was empty he returned to the kitchens, and emerged with it filled.  But this time, Patrick made a beeline for King Seamus.

Billie went to intercept, brimming with suspicion. 

“Miss Lurk, we are in need of your counsel!”

It was Marius Silva, wearing the mask of a wolf.  He was standing close to Sinjean DeLuc, who had tipped his hound mask up, revealing his smug and wine-flushed face.

“Sinjean does not believe that I am the better kisser!” Silva declared, a pout evident in his voice.

“How am I supposed to fix that?” Billie replied, still focused on trying to get to King Seamus before Patrick did.  DeLuc leaned forward, alcohol on his breath.

“Why by judging the kissing for us!” he said. 

Billie recoiled, thoroughly distracted.  Where these two men flirting with her, or just using her as a measuring stick in their competitions?

“How about this?” she suggested, struggling not to let her offense get into her voice. “You two kiss each other and try to figure out who is the better kisser that way?”

Fortune must have been smiling down upon her because DeLuc’s face lit up and Silva looked like he had just found a mound of diamonds.

“What a perfect solution!” Silva cried, before turning to DeLuc and seizing his face. “Show me what you can do, you bastard.”

DeLuc pushed up Silva’s mask just so, leaving his mouth free and accessible. “Bring it on, you son of a bitch.”

Billie was somewhat ashamed to admit she stood there staring, open mouthed for a good minute or three just watching the two bitter rivals make out.  The Outsider would’ve loved to see this. 

What snapped her out of that trance was Eulalia, fluffed to a bright violet, ramming into her head.

“What the fuck!” the bird screeched, peeling away towards where Billie last saw Patrick.  Billie stared as the bird flew back to her, practically motioning her to follow.  So she followed Eulalia, the bird darting forward then back to her to make sure that she was following.

Perhaps she should recruit Eulalia to work with her, as the little bird lead her straight to Patrick.  The waiter was walking away from King Seamus, who now had a glass of whiskey in his hand.  She should stop him from drinking that whiskey until she knew it was safe.

But as she turned to go to the King, Eulalia let out an annoyed screech and pulled on her mask’s ears. Patrick was heading out into the hallway, tray suspiciously full.

Well, the King seemed to be distracted by the strange drumming and whatever was happening on the dancefloor.  And he was close to Emily, who was armed with many antidotes.  Following Patrick and confronting him was worth the risk. 

So she picked up the pace, and finally caught up to him in the hallway.

“Oh thank the waves I found you, I am parched!” Billie declared as she swiped a glass of the practically full tray.

“Miss Lurk!” Patrick cried, a look of horror developing on his face. “Please return the glass, I have learned that this whiskey is below standards, utterly unworthy of consumption!”

Billie hummed, sniffing the alcohol.  Indeed, it certainly did not smell like any whiskey she had ever known; far too fruity.  Eulalia came to perch on of the other glasses, dipping her head into the whiskey. Patrick blanched at the sight.

“Miss Lurk! Please, get the Empress’ bird out of the whiskey!  That cannot be good for it!”

Eulalia yanked her head out of the whiskey with a screech.  Her feathers there were a bright green, a deep contrast to her violet body. 

“WHAT THE FUCK!” She charged into Patrick’s face, tiny little talons forward and ready to claw out his eyes.   On his part Patrick gave a shriek of fear, throwing the tray up as he desperately tried to shield his eyes.

Billie stepped to the side as the carved crystal glasses shattered on the floor, spilling the poisoned whiskey everywhere. She set her own drink down, watching Patrick melt into the ground as he was scratched and bit by tiny, fierce Eulalia.

“Get it off! Get it off, please!” he wailed into the stone floor, his hands bleeding as Eulalia chomped on his pinky.

“Only if you tell me what you put in those drinks and where you got it,” Billie declared coldly, preparing a sleep dart.

“I don’t know!” Patrick howled.  Two guards approached them, a curious look on their faces. “It can’t be stopped, once you drink it you’re dead!  Now get the thing off me!”

Billie put her foot on the back of his neck. “Where did you get the poison?”

“From Kathleen Psalter! In the snake mask!”

At that Billie sank the sleep dart into his back.  Eulalia finally let up, darting to sit on her shoulder, warbling anxiously. Billie turned to the two guards, who patiently stood at attention.

“Take him to Coldridge, and save that whiskey glass over there for analysis.  Alert the others to a woman wearing a snake mask. Round her up, and a fellow in a pelican mask. I have reason to believe he is an associate of hers.”

They saluted, and gathered up the passed-out Patrick.  Now Billie had to stop the King from being poisoned.

She entered the hall in a sprint, spotting to her horror King Seamus taking a large sip from the poisoned glass.

“YOUR MAJESTY, DON’T SWALLOW!”

Unfortunately, that was the wrong thing to do, as in his surprise, he swallowed it.

***

Greta was utterly confused as to what was going on.  Since dinner ended she had been spun around the dance floor by Elanor until the quartet was commandeered by Wyman and his pals over some stupid bet.  The Outsider was caught between performing a dance in front of the entire room or eating whale meat, and luckily for him Elanor cheerfully offered her musical services.  Abandoned by the one person she felt comfortable with, Greta decided to make her way over to Emily, deciding to eat the questions in favor of spending time with a friend.

And now the King of Morley was poisoned.

Queen Gracie was remarkably composed for seeing her husband swallow poison, holding his hand and crooning a song as they sat in their chairs, the King sniffling from a runny nose and breathing shallowly.  Merida had ran off to get her brother Wyman, leaving the pretty seal-masked woman to console an increasingly hysterical Lydia.

“Billie, do you know what the poison is?” Emily immediately asked as the bat-masked Spymaster ran over, bright purple Eulalia zipping over to rest on Emily’s shoulder.

“The idiot didn’t know, he only said it couldn’t be stopped,” Billie grumbled with a huff. 

“We will see about that,” said Emily determinedly as she reached into a carefully concealed pouch, removing several bonecharms and a strange ugly stone.  She held the items out to Queen Gracie “Set these charms against his chest and put the stone into his mouth.”

“But Empress that is witchcraft!” Lydia shrieked as Gracie balked at Emily’s instructions.

“If you have a better idea tell me it now,” Emily snapped. “We have no idea what this poison is, or how fast it works. This could stop or stall its effects.  You want your uncle-in-law to live do you not?”

Gracie visibly steeled herself before taking the bonecharms and arranging them as Emily prescribed. The King himself took the strange stone from Emily’s hand and put it in his mouth.

“Now what?” asked Gracie, her voice trembling oh so slightly.

Emily cracked her knuckles. “We find the poisoner’s accomplices and get them to tell us how to save Seamus.”

Greta cleared her throat. “Empress, Elanor is here, should I call her over and see if she could help?”

Emily locked eyes with her for a brief moment and nodded. “That is a good idea Greta. Bring her over here, quickly.”

Greta nodded and closed her eyes, hoping to find Elanor.  There she was, over in the music room!  Pushing her way through the slowly forming crowd, Greta ran out of the hall to get to Elanor.  She practically danced between conversing aristocrats and perfectly postured waiters.  Finally, she reached the music room doors.

“Elanor!” she cried as she threw open the door.

Greta was not expecting the space to be so crowded. Many animal-masked faces looked back at her, Elanor’s mouth slightly open and her hands poised over the strings of the harp.

“Greta, whatever is the matter?”  Elanor asked.

As much as Greta wanted to ask what Elanor was doing, she reminded herself to say on task.

“The King has been poisoned, we need your help!”

A gasp rippled through the room.  Elanor stood up from the harp at the same time High Overseer Chopin stood. 

“Poisoned! By whom?” he cried.

Greta shrugged. “I do not know, but I believe the spymaster and the Empress are aware of who did such a thing.  But right now we need help in stopping the poison.”

Elanor nodded resolutely and joined Greta in the doorway.  As they left she could hear the group bust into chatter, being soothed by Chopin behind them.

“So what sort of poisoning is it?” Elanor asked as they made their way to the King, soon elbowing their way through the crowd.

“I do not know,” replied Greta as she squeezed between Captain Otte and Mr. White. “All I know was he was poisoned through his drink.”

“So, it wasn’t from a rock or something like that?” Elanor’s tone was hesitant and somewhat doubtful.

Greta found herself looking back at her as they kept moving towards the King. “No? I do not think so, why?”

“Weelllll,” Elanor’s glowing eyes shifted to look somewhere up on the ceiling. “I can only fix one type of poisoning, and that’s radiation poisoning, which really is not a problem for any of you.”

Greta came to stop. “What do you mean you can only fix one type of poisoning?”

“Poisons are a ‘Void thing’!” she replied defensively.  “Same thing with diseases! I can fix blindness and other light or heat related issues but that is it!”

A sigh came from Greta before she could hold it back, and pinched the bridge of her nose through her mask. “So we need to get Owen?”

Elanor nodded. “Yes, he’ll know what to do.”

Greta was about to close her eyes to look for the Outsider when a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air, coming from the main hall near the king.  Elanor seized her hand and pulled Greta towards the direction of the scream; the pull was so strong she was nearly yanked off her feet.

“Out of the way!” Elanor yelled as she shoved through the crowd, Greta running as fast as she could in her wake.   There was a tense air around them, everyone was still and murmuring at loudest.  What happened?

“Let him go or your lover gets his brains blown out!”

Elanor came to a sudden stop and Greta ran into her, causing the two of them to yelp.

“Don’t any of you move a muscle or he dies!”

Greta peeked around Elanor.  They had come to the edge of the crowd, now a circle around a gathering of ten or so people. But the main focus was on four- Emily standing over a prone man with a knife to his throat, a beat-up pelican mask beside his head. And across from them a woman in a snake mask, holding a gun to the Outsider’s head.

“Are you kidding me?!” Elanor screamed.

“I know, right?” the Outsider snarked back, hair a mess as the head of the skin was pushed back like a hood. “Out of literally an entire ballroom of people Psalter chooses me.  I’m just filled with luck aren’t I?”

The woman, Psalter, pushed the gun barrel against his temple. “It was nothing personal, but now you are starting to get on my nerves.”

“Oh I’m getting on your nerves?” The Outsider glared rather venomously at his captor. “Well I’m _soooo_ sorry for inconveniencing you.”

Psalter actually growled. “You stuck up bastard!”

“Kathleen! Stay calm!”  It was the man Emily had pinned, his bruised face lifted off the ground.

Elanor was pulling at her hair. “Oh my stars, sweet hydrogen monoxide, this is _bad_.”

“That’s stating the obvious,” Greta muttered.

“Ms. Psalter,” Emily’s voice was strong and even. “You are outgunned. If you release Mr. Pharmakós then I will show you some mercy.”

The woman laughed a strained laugh. “You think I am going to let go my only ticket out of here? And allow him to undo all our hard work?  Nice try Empress, but I think not.”

“What do you mean “undo”?” Billie asked from her position beside Emily.

Psalter did not respond, but Emily leaned just so onto the man’s kidneys.

“He’s a witch is he not?!” the man cried with a gasp of pain. “Reverse poison, stop death, that sort of thing!”

The look of sheer offense on the Outsider’s face was almost hilarious. “First off, for the godsdamn record, I am not a fucking witch. As for reversing poison, any natural philosopher or chemist could reverse poisoning if caught in time or treated correctly.  That’s why Dr. Bonnefoy is with the king right now.   If you want to stop death you need to make a pact with the Outsider, who is a thoroughly unpleasant creature.  Not worth it at all.”

Greta saw Emily fight to keep a smile from appearing on her face. The man beneath her looked utterly confused. Psalter gave a joyous, somewhat maniacal laugh.

“Then our mission is a success, so long as we detain you here!  Nothing can stop this poison!”

“Is this the poison?”

Pretty much everyone stared at the Outsider with dumbfounded shock as he held up a small vial filled with an amber-colored liquid. With his other hand he unscrewed the cap, and gave it a sniff.

“What are you doing?”  It was Corvo, so quiet that he melted into the background.

“Figuring out if Kathleen Psalter is telling the truth of course,” the Outsider said just as he licked the cap.

Psalter screamed and yanked his head back, knocking the vial out of his hands with her other arm.  It shattered on the floor.

“YOU FOOL, YOU MORON! NOW YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!” she yelled in harmony with Elanor, her eyes blazing behind her cat mask.

The Outsider licked his lips, a serious expression on his face. “I will not die, but she is correct.  We do not have enough time to create an antidote.  All we can do is make the king comfortable as he dies.”

“Are you _certain_?” Emily leveled an intense look at him, her voice as even as before, but her knife blade was beginning to cut into her prisoner’s neck, her grip on the handle tense. Greta got the feeling that Emily was asking more about the Outsider’s survival than the King’s doomed fate.

The Outsider returned the stare with equal intensity. “Positive.”

Emily sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “Time to end this charade, we have the information we need.”

In a blink of the eye Corvo appeared behind Psalter and put her in a chokehold. The Outsider slammed his foot down onto hers and elbowed her in the gut.  Her grip on him loosened and he twisted out of her headlock on him, yanking the gun out of Psalter’s hand.  Moments later, she went limp.  Emily stabbed a sleep dart into her prisoner’s neck.

The circle breathed a sigh of relief.  The immediate situation was resolved.

“You fucking MORON!” Elanor stormed forward and grabbed the Outsider by the shoulders. “DO YOU WANT TO DIE?”

The Outsider blinked, and pulled the Áneukhrmato’s head back over his. “I will not die. Besides, do you truly care?”

Elanor stared at him. “What the hell do you mean that that poison won’t kill you? It’s currently killing the King of Morley! What is making you exempt?”

“I think you know Elanor,” the Outsider stated coolly. “Now, can you let go of me?”

She released him, shocked. Emily was currently surrounded by Corvo, Billie, Secretary Cassidy, and Commander Otte, having a hushed conversation with the four as guards carted the assassins away. 

“This makes no sense,” Elanor murmured.

“What do you mean?” Greta found herself asking, watching the Outsider talk to the seal-masked woman from earlier and High Overseer Chopin. 

“His body is mortal,” Elanor whispered. “Poison like that should kill him in the same way that it would kill any man.  Kill the body and the spirit would return to the Void.  Why does he think he is immune? He was all shot up after that boat incident, so why would poison be different? I doubt that he wants to return to the Void.”

Greta shrugged. “Maybe you are wrong.  Perhaps he is naturally immune to harm.”

Elanor shook her head. “No, the Outsider is not built like that.” 

She grasped Greta’s shoulder and the world turned, faded, and came back.  They were in her room at the Chapel.  Elanor was pacing, and Greta took off her mask.

“What do you mean by built?”

Elanor came to a brief stop by the closet, before resuming her pacing. “Have you ever wondered why there are no gods?”

Greta frowned. “But there were gods, the Outsider spoke of them, I have read about them being worshiped in Pandyssia. They were just things made up to explain the inexplicable.”

Elanor bent down, and lit her incense.  The soothing smell soon filled the room. 

“You are right, there were gods,” Elanor murmured, looking into the mellow flame. “And they nearly broke the world.”


	38. Chapter 37: A Whalebone Bucket

##  Chapter 37: A Whalebone Bucket

The fallout from the assassination lingered very heavily all week; anything otherwise would not be expected. The newspapers were expectedly mournful, and very harsh on Captain Otte and Billie.  They were far kinder to her and the Outsider. As for her opinion on the matter, Billie and the Outsider gambled and lost, paying a price that was frankly not worth it.  Seamus might have been old, but his wits were still sharp and he was a strong ally.  His eldest son, Dáire, was wary of her, and if anything was in favor of Morley’s independence.  What a headache.

The Outsider did not see it as a loss.  Emily could not fathom what he saw it as, since he did acknowledge it as a sort of setback, a setback for Emily alone.  Even when she angrily demanded he justify his thoughts he remained stubbornly mute, simply saying “This is the best path”.  Fuck, it was as if she had lost her grandfather.  What on earth made this the best path?

The society sections were also rather melancholy, the only cheer coming from the frankly unbelievable report that Sinjean DeLuc and Marius Silva were seen making out.  But it was not the public opinion that was placing a damper on her week.  No, it was the fact that Wyman and Lydia refused to go to their townhouse and stayed with Gracie in the Tower.  They spouted some nonsense about wanting to comfort their aunt.  Gracie had two days after Seamus’ death sat with her, and confessed she wished she was given more space to grieve.  She was comforting the weeping Lydia far more than dealing with her own grief.

On top of that, instead of having breakfast and lunch in her rooms with the Outsider, she now was forced to have every meal with the three.  Gracie was silent as a grave, Lydia either over-enthusiastic or close to weeping. Wyman talked about the most mundane things, seeking out her opinion far too often for her tastes.  Merida and her lady friend Arabel DeLuc, cousin of Sinjean, mercifully attended dinners, but otherwise the meals were a terrible affair.  The Outsider refused to eat with them, and in the mess during the ball she had lost the bonecharm that kept the worst of the nausea at bay. 

So it was a massive relief to Emily when Gracie announced at breakfast that they were to leave the very afternoon.  After all, Seamus’ wished to be buried like a traditional Morlean King, the flesh stripped from his bones by nature, then the bones interred when every last scrap of flesh was gone.  Gracie and a few nobles would depart with the iced body.  The Fitzpatricks were relocating to the townhouse, thank goodness.

Emily left the breakfast table, having only been able to swallow a cup of tea and two slices of buttered toast.  She did not have to attend to them until midday, when they would make their formal departure.  How did it get to this, where she was looking forward to departure of the O’Conner Dons?  How strange was life that she would rather face tariff legislation than talk one second longer with Wyman?  In any case, her office was now her sanctuary.

An hour in, now sipping water while writing comments on MP Emerson’s proposal to expand railcar service throughout Gristol, Emily heard a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said distractedly.

The hinges creaked, and light footsteps echoed against the floor.  Emily finally looked up, and saw Lydia standing before her desk. 

“Empress, may we talk?” he tone was nervous, and she was fiddling with a ribbon on her coat

Emily put down her pen and gestured to a chair placed to her right. “Sure, have a seat.”

Flashing an uneasy smile, Lydia made her way around the desk to the chair, and carefully sat down. 

“So, what was it that you would like to talk about?” Emily asked, trying to keep her tone light.

The young woman before her seemed to steel herself. “I hope you do not think me presumptuous, but Empress, if I may ask you, are you perhaps… pregnant?”

That was not what Emily was expecting Lydia would come to her to talk about.  She could not help but give a short laugh.

“Pregnant? I do not think so.”

Lydia looked utterly baffled at her response. “Begging your pardon your majesty, but since I have arrived I have not seen you drink one drop of alcohol, you did not eat puffer fish during the masquerade, at every meal you eat the blandest of things.  As someone who suffered terribly from morning sickness I did the same things.  Even now alcohol turns my stomach.”

That gave Emily pause.  The fickle nausea that came and went from day to day, week to week, only came about after she started to bed the Outsider.  But…

“It’s impossible,” she murmured aloud.

Lydia let out an awkward little laugh. “That is what I believed when I first let Wyman into my bed.  He was stunned too, but how else could it have happened? I will let it go if you could tell me when your last monthly was.”

Shit.  Emily found herself gripping the armrests of her chair tightly.  She had always bled reliably, and yet… How could she not have noticed that it failed to come two months in a row?

“Empress, are you alright?” Lydia was leaning forward, a hand offered as comfort.  Emily stared at it, not knowing quite what to do with it.  Lydia took it back, an earnest look in her dark blue eyes. “I swear Empress, I will not breathe a word of this to anyone.”

 There was a beat of silence as Emily tried to calm the monsoon of emotions clouding her mind.

“Good.” She internally winced at the menace in her tone.  Lydia paled and shrunk back in her seat.

“Well, I will not take up more of your time,” she squeaked, slowly standing up.  “If you want to talk, you know where to find me.  Pregnancy is hard, do not make it harder by keeping it all to yourself.  See you around lunchtime!”

The young woman practically fled from the room, leaving the door open and Corvo peering in curiously.  After a moment he came in, concern growing in his dark eyes.

“What did she want to talk about?” he asked, approaching her desk.

“Wyman,” Emily lied easily.  Now was not the time to tell Corvo, not when she was still having doubts herself.   What she needed was to have a nice long chat with a friend.

Emily took the note she jotted down and put it in an envelope, sealing it with a strip of colored tape.  “Would you be so kind as to send this to Greta?  I am requesting her presence at tea today.”

***

This was the seventh shrine he had visited today, and the third boasting a human presence.  The first were the lovely Tuniits who procured narwhal tusks for him.  They knew nothing of memory wiping bonecharms, and kindly requested two hound puppies in exchange for a narwhal tusk in the upcoming trade.  The second was one of the tattooed peoples of Lvste Owv, who proceeded to utterly lose composure at his appearance, and would not calm down until he was forced to freeze him in time to hear out what he was asking.  As it turned out bonecharms were not a form of magic practiced in the swamplands, but he learned of a trickster that stole memories from those who were inhospitable.  The less he could say about his encounter with the Pandyssian automata at the next shrine, the better.  Turning back to the Isles he was mostly greeted with corrupted bonecharms and scraps of paper confessing ignorance of any memory wiping magic.  The cursed bonecharms he crushed, throwing them into the heated barrier that still remained between him and the Void.  On the papers he wrote his thanks and encouraged the strangers to keep looking.  He was truly expecting all of his shrines to be devoid of human form.

So imagine how much it shocked him to appear at one of his many sewer shrines and find Roger kneeling there deep in prayer.

“Please Outsider, I don’t know if you’re there, but there’s this gal I like and I need your help.”

The Outsider could not help but laugh, causing Roger to look up, dazed for a moment.

“I think you should turn elsewhere for love advice,” the Outsider could not help himself, trying as best as he could to put the void into his voice.

“Oh my Empress it’s the Outsider!” Roger’s voice came out as a high pitched wheeze.

The Outsider offered a strained smile before examining the offerings at this shrine.  There were a couple empty spools, another corrupted bonecharm, and three pieces of paper in different handwritings all pleading ignorance to the question he had posed.  He sighed as he crushed the bonecharm.  Yet another dead end.

“Roger Henderson,” he turned to the awestruck man. “What do you know about memory loss?”

Roger scratched behind his ears. “Like when you get hit upside the head or drink too much?”

The Outsider rolled his eyes, a meaningless gesture since they were pure black, yet done out of sheer habit.  “Yes, but the cause is through magic, like a bonecharm or spell.”

He listened to rats squeak and water trickle through the pipes as Roger’s face screwed up in deep thought.

“I don’t know about bonecharms, perhaps if you end up with a corrupted one maybe.  But spells?  My best mate Todd can do that with his flute.  He doesn’t do it often, too much wipes a person’s mind for good. Funny person Todd.  Hates the Void more than anythin’ but can do magic.  Perhaps that’s why he gets on so well with High Overseer Chopin.  The fella makes bonecharms on the regular, which is funny for an Overseer.”

The Outsider blinked. “Todd Haricort is meeting with the High Overseer?”

Roger nodded eagerly. “Yeah the fella comes to the Boiling Mermaid pretty regularly now, I guess one of his sisters told him about it.  Todd and he been talkin’ real often too, sometimes a lady dressed all old-fashioned joins them. Been ditchin’ me and Fergus and Louie far too often too.  Not to mention none of us have seen Owen since his fish went on a rampage.  Did ya know my friend Owen is fucking the Empress?”

It took all he could to not pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I know that your friend Owen is ‘fucking the Empress’ as you have put it.”

A lightbulb seemed to go off above Roger’s head. “Hey, can you tell Owen to get his ass back to the Boiling Mermaid?  He owes us some gossip, not to mention we miss him.”

A genuine smile forced its way to the Outsider’s face. “I will pass on the message.”

Perhaps after visiting ten more shrines he would stop by the Boiling Mermaid. 

As he pulled himself into the space by the Void, he felt a tug.

***

Greta struggled with the oversized sack of stuff Emily requested for her to bring to tea.  Sneaking the stuff out of Storage and out of the Chapel itself was utterly nerve-wracking.  After all, removing magical items from Storage outside of all but the most specific of circumstances was grounds for branding and expulsion.  Getting expulsed from the Oracular Order was literally the last thing Greta wanted to happen to her.  But Emily’s note… Just the tone alongside its contents almost scared her.  Obtaining the stuff was worth the risk, if it could ease a friend’s mind.

Corvo looked at her and the sack slung over her shoulder very strangely, but other than that he was mercifully polite. He led her to Emily’s office, opening the door while taking his place just by the threshold.  The door closed behind Greta with a soft click, the Sister feeling a little frozen in place as she gazed at her friend. 

Emily was seated not behind her desk as she expected, but on a couch, twisted so she could stare out the blue grey window overlooking the Wrenhaven.  Eulalia was perched in her cage, fluffed up and clearly asleep.

“When the coup occurred I was locked in here to await my future transport to Coldridge,” she murmured, eyes fixed on the world outside. “Luckily for me they left my bedroom window open.  It was easy to escape from there.”

Greta finally approached her, sliding the cumbersome sack off her shoulder and carefully placing it on the floor between her and Emily.

“I cannot imagine how painful it must be, to have to flee from a place once safe,” Greta murmured.

Emily finally turned away from the window, a wry smile appearing on her face. “Safety is an illusion.  A very important one, but an illusion none the less.”

Greta found herself kneeling on the floor before her sack, worried. “What is prompting this Emily?”

Emily’s lips parted and her eyes darted down to the sack. “I… you’ll see. Thank you for bringing what I asked.”

Greta shrugged. “You sounded deeply troubled and bringing these could ease your mind.  It was the least I could do.”

Reaching out, the Sister opened the sack and peeled it down.  The burlap a circle on the floor, it revealed a book and a small bag of things stashed inside a whalebone bucket.  Emily stared curiously at the bucket, even joining Greta on the ground to examine it.

“Is that a bucket, made out of bone?”

Greta nodded. “This book here recommended using a bucket carved out of whalebone, so I brought it just in case. Let me tell you, that bucket is heavy!”

Emily chuckled a bit as Greta took the book out and flipped to a bookmarked page.  Ah, there it was.

“So we need dried mandrake leaves, crushed oyster shells, seawater, and either your blood or urine,” Greta summed up as her eyes skated over the recipe.

“Wait you need what?!” Emily sounded truly taken aback.

“Mandrake leaves, oyster shells, seawater, your blood or urine whichever you prefer,” Greta repeated calmly. 

Emily stared at her for a moment. “You want me to pee in that bucket?”

Greta put down the book with a slap. “Do you or do you not want confirm that you aren’t pregnant?” her whisper came out as an irritated hiss. She was risking her hide here, the least Emily could do was follow her directions! Since when was Emily afraid of magic?

A long silence stretched out.  Emily almost immediately broke eye contact with her, staring down into the bucket.  The room felt a touch colder, even with the radiators working hard to warm the large space. Greta swallowed, watching her friend reach into the bucket and pick up the bag.  She felt ashamed for snapping at her friend.

“Emily-”

“You came really prepared didn’t you?” She spoke with quiet admiration as she opened the small bag and poured the mandrake leaves and oyster shells into the bucket, giving the bag a shake as it emptied.

Greta closed her slightly opened mouth, deciding not to push Emily.  “Well, all we need is seawater, but I do not have any flask big enough to hold the amount, nor have I been able to actually get to the sea.”

Emily nodded in agreement. “Getting that would indeed be difficult.  But perhaps we can simulate it?”

The book would have an answer for that.  Greta eagerly picked it up again and flipped back to the page.

“We can substitute seawater for any water if we add salt, the brains of a crab and the eggs of a fish into the mixture.”

Emily got to her feet, an aloof and determined expression on her face. “Take the bucket to my bathroom.  I will go to the kitchens to get the other ingredients, and then meet you there.”

 “Alright,” Greta got to her feet. “Should I use the door or the window?”

A small smile crossed Emily’s face.  “The door, though I appreciate your train of thought.  Follow me out, and there should be no problems.”

Greta inhaled deeply, then picked up a bucket.  Emily’s nerves were beginning to rub off on her.  But the whole matter will be resolved soon enough. 

***

The tug the Outsider felt same sort of magnetic tug that he felt when he tried to cast the Rateater’s riverboat out to sea.  The tug of a star’s power.  

What an utter inconvenience.

“Leave me alone!” He was not sure if shouting would do anything, but it did not hurt to try.  Unfortunately, the tug continued. 

Irritated, he pulled against it, wanting to just get to the bloody shrine.   But that simply made the tug stronger.  So much stronger, that he snapped backwards into utter blackness. He could see nothing, feel nothing.  It was hard to breathe.

“There you are!”

The Outsider blinked, his vision adjusting.  The bright blur standing in front of him slowly came into focus.

“What in the blue Void do you want Elanor?” he growled.

The star looked different than usual.  No longer was the dark-skinned blonde human, but a vaguely hominoid shape of flame.  He was strongly reminded of some depictions of guardian spirits in the confederation of Iga.  Perhaps this was where they got the inspiration.

The star folded her arms, making her look even more like a tongue of fire. “I recently had a talk with Greta.  A talk about Gods.  I did not do it justice with her and you need to know it more so than her, so I thought it would be a good idea for me to bring you to an expert.”

That threw the Outsider for a loop. “What do you mean that you talked with Greta about Gods?”

“You aren’t supposed to survive that poison,” Elanor declared.

Now that was off topic.  Well, it was clearly not.  Obviously that was what sparked her talk with Greta. But still, it was such a confusing statement.  What on earth did Elanor mean?

“Clarify,” he said aloud, folding his arms too.

“You are not a god,” Elanor began to pace.  “At least, you are not supposed to be a god. This body is meant to be mortal, precisely like your first body.  You could be injured, you could die.  Your spirit is simply enhanced to fulfill the duties of the Void, to be a good representative and do whatever it wants you to do.”

The Outsider began to shake his head.   “What do you mean I am not a god?  You know when you found me on that boat in Lady Boyle’s wall? My injuries were being healed by no outside force, before I was on the boat I got strength from the shrine I fought in front of?  I lived for thousands of years-”

Elanor rolled her eyes. “Do not kid yourself Outsider. That was not living, that was merely existing, watching.”

“I chose not to interfere!  I did interfere, do you not know of my Marked?”

Elanor lifted up her hands in placating surrender. “Fair enough, but know this.  Gods cannot be killed by mortals, and they cannot be unmade.  Before the incident I was summoned into, both applied to you.”

“I know of that timeline,” he said blandly.  Elanor, lighting up the inky blackness, flickered in surprise.

“Timeline? What the hydrogen trioxide do you mean?”

The Outsider shrugged. “It was what could have been. I see many of those sorts of things. It does not matter.”

Elanor nodded, a strange look on her face.  The Outsider scanned the blackness. It seemed infinite, hollow.  Elanor remained quiet, a pensive expression on her face.  The Outsider just wanted to go home.

“So what is your point?” he grumbled. “Why drag me out here?”

“You were expressly constructed to not be a god,” stated Elanor with a wave. “I double checked, I read about it, asked about it.  You were a concession to the Void, a reward for its compliance and aid.  It took ages to find you, a thousand years to be exact, but make no mistake you were a mortal hand-picked for this role.  You had the right spirit for it.”

The Outsider wanted to scream. It took all his control to only shout. “What do you mean I am a concession?!  What happened, I do not understand!”

Elanor stared at him with a touch of wonder, then understanding. “Of course, the Void would never tell you of what happened.”

The Outsider took a step forward, feeling the head radiate off the star. “What. Happened?”

Elanor opened her mouth, but her eyes shifted, looking behind him.  Fear bloomed on her face.

Almost as if he was shoved the Outsider felt his body slam through the darkness, past the strange heat by the Void, then reality reform around him. 

It was then he noticed he was in Emily’s bathroom, with Greta and Emily sitting on the tile floor, a whalebone bucket between them.  Inside the bucket was bright pink water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Also a forewaring- I'm going to break my upload schedule just this once by uploading next week! So keep your eyes peeled for that. Thank you all for reading and all the support!


	39. Chapter 38: Sweet William

##  Chapter 38: Sweet William

Emily peered over Greta’s shoulder as the Sister squinted to read the faded print.

“Are you sure that it is supposed to that… pink?” Emily glanced quickly at the whalebone bucket.

“I don’t know, maybe???” Greta threw down the book in irritation. “Whatever moron wrote this book chose to be all fancy for the color names. I mean, why not just put the color as a dot of ink and write what it means next to it?”

“Wait, colors?” Emily picked up the discarded text. Her eyes caught a neat list of colors- Banan, Gingerline, Lusty-gallant, Sweet William, Falu, Incarnadine, Drake’s neck, Verditer, Watchet, Labrador, and Puke.

“Yep,” Greta popped the p, staring off at the tub. “Spells that test pregnancy are surprisingly rare.  Most of the stuff I knew about was either about assessing the health of the baby or aborting. This was literally the only one I could remember off the top of my head.”

Emily could see why Greta remembered this one.  Underneath Sweet William were a couple of lines that read “ _the patient if with childe if the waterf turn thif shade._ _The brighter the color, the more healthy the babe._ ”

“I also figured this one would be useful because it would diagnose where that stomach complaint came from,” Greta continued. “We just need to figure out what these colors mean.”

Emily placed the book between them, swallowing her nerves. “Lusty-gallant and Sweet William seem to be related.”

Greta peeked over and winced. “Ooo, Lusty-gallant confirms a miscarriage or an abortion.  That is certainly related to Sweet William but not in a pleasant way at all.”

“Are miscarriages really all that bad?” Emily asked, filled with curiosity.

Greta blanched and stared at her, an intense look on her face. “My father’s first wife died thanks to a miscarriage. You really, really do not want one.”

Emily nodded, worried. “Alright, let us hope it is not Lusty-gallant.”  She shifted on the cold tiles, pointing at a different word. “I would bet my clothes that Drake’s neck is the same shade of green as a male duck’s neck.”

Greta made a gasp of glee. “And Falu! Falu is one of those tiny copper mining towns in Tyvia.  I bet my blindfold Falu is some copper color.”

“While we are still betting, color me surprised if Incarnadine is not the same color as bloody flesh,” Emily added, a feeling a delight at solving the puzzle filling her chest.

Greta slapped the chilly tiles. “Of course!” she cried. “Incarnadine, like incarnate!”

A grin crossed Emily’s face. “So, it is not those three.”

“Thank Holgar it isn’t!” Greta wiped her brow. “Otherwise you would need to see the doctor yesterday.”

“Three down, eight to go,” Emily tried to sound chipper, but she could feel the problem-solving high wear off.  They had no leads for the other colors.  For a moment, she was tempted to call for the Outsider to ask for his help.  Greta gave her a worried look.  She had been giving her those looks since she arrived. It was oddly comforting.

“Do you think the Outsider would know?” she gently broached.

Emily shook her head.  She did not quite know how to voice her unfounded discomfort in telling him about this.  He did seem open to having children, to put it mildly.  That should put her at ease, and it did… partially. Void why was she so nervous?

“Out of curiosity, is he colorblind?”

The question pulled Emily out of her thoughts and she stared at Greta for a long moment. “I do not think so?”

Greta let out an awkward laugh. “Oh… I kind of thought he was.”

Emily’s mouth fell open a bit, bewildered. “Wha…why did you think that?”

“Isn’t the Void a dark colorless place?” Greta waved an arm around, a curious look in her eyes.

“Well, no? Not exactly.  It was not filled with color but it is not colorless,” Emily replied. 

There was a beat of silence as Greta digested the information.

“Huh… neat.”

Emily could not help but laugh at the matter of fact declaration.  The two of them sat in silence, her eyes drawn to the bright pink and white flowers potted by the window.  Greta followed her line of sight.

“It astonishes me that you can have flowers like that even in the dead of winter. Especially sweet things like those.”

Like two gears being pushed into place, it clicked in Emily’s mind- what the color Sweet William was.   Getting to her feet, shaking slightly from nerves, Emily walked over and plucked one of the bright pink flowers from the plant. Greta frowned at her.

“What are you doing?”

Emily returned to the bucket, sitting down again on the tiles.

“Greta,” she held out the flower. “This is a Sweet William”

The Sister paled as she looked at the small thing. It was the same shade as the water in the whalebone bucket.

“Holy shit,” Greta covered her mouth briefly, her brown eyes flicking up to look carefully at Emily.  “I guess a congratulations is in order?”

Emily had to breathe deeply.  Her friend watched as she slowly exhaled, worried.

“Do you want any of the other spells?” she offered gently. Emily shook her head roughly.

“No! No, I’m… I am just overwhelmed.”

Greta simply watched her as she breathed, trying to process her thoughts. This was real, this was happening.  Excitement rose alongside panic.  She was not ready for this, and yet now seemed to be the right time.  Void, did her mother feel this way about her?

“Emily, do you want this?”

The utter gravity in Greta’s voice pulled her out of her mind.  The Sister had a steely look on her face. “You have options.  You can say no to this.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of Emily’s mouth. “Thank you Greta, but really, what I’m stuck feeling is that do not not want it, you know?”

Greta held up her hands, eyes fastened on somewhere above Emily’s head as she pieced together her statement.

“So you are alright with having this child, but not excited?” her tone was questioning, her hands moving along an imaginary line.

Emily found herself lifting up her hands too. “I am more than alright, more akin to being good and even looking a little forward to it, but I am certainly not as excited as the Outsider would be.”

“Ah-HA!” Greta slammed her hand down and leaned over the bucket. “So that is what has got you all nervous! You are worried about what the Outsider would think.”

“Of course I am nervous!” Emily found herself crying back. “I have no desire for him to resent me for not wanting this as much as he does.”

Greta looked like she wanted to say something, her eyes blazing, then something seemed to quench that flame.  She leaned back, a thoughtful and somewhat bittersweet look on her face.

“Part of loving someone is being vulnerable to them, and both of you are going to be especially vulnerable regarding this.  You know this better than I, but he probably has a million and a half issues regarding being wanted. If he takes your lack of excitement as a personal rejection, that is more of a him problem than a you problem.  So you both want this child?  Then your job is to love the ever-loving fuck out of it and turn it into a decent human.  Even if you both fall out, that is your job, first and foremost.”

Emily felt her hands curl up into fists, grasping the fabric of her pants. Her throat felt tight.

“You really think we could fall out over this?” Why did her eyes feel so hot?

Greta reached out, grasping her shoulder. “Children bring out the best and worst of us.  Believe me, I have seen it.  You love him do you not?”

Emily nodded, feeling tears brim in her eyes. She took a deep shaky breath, trying to ground herself.  Greta’s hand squeezed her shoulder.

“He loves you too, so damn much. It’s actually kind of sickening. Keep that in mind when you talk.”

Emily nodded again, tears shaking loose.  Damn it, why all the tears?

“And, for the record, it is alright that you are not gung-ho for this.  You not being excited for this does not mean you love the Outsider any less. You have a bloody Empire to run; being pregnant and then raising a child while doing so sounds like it is not going to be fun.  But void, from what I heard your mother was able to do it and fuck if she did not do well!” 

A sob wrenched itself out of Emily’s throat.  Far too many emotions stirred within her, the biggest being grief.  Now, more than ever before, she wanted her mother.  Greta leaned forward over the bucket, wrapping her in a hug.  Emily embraced her friend tightly. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Hey,” Greta said softly, just as earnestly as she did before. “I am your friend.  It is the very least I can do.”

Emily released her, taking a long breath in. Pulling up her sleeve she wiped away the few tears, not caring about the stains.

“How do I even bring this up?” she murmured, feeling a little lost.

Greta raised an eye brow and leaned back. “Hey, you know how you like baby whales? What about, human babies?”

Emily could not help but let out a barking laugh at that. “Greta that is terrible!”

“But it would work!” Greta defended.

“That is what is so terrible about it!” Emily returned with another wet laugh.

As if summoned by the mere mention of whales, the Outsider rather suddenly appeared in the bathroom.

***

The Outsider shivered.  For a bathroom in a Royal palace, it was remarkably cold. How on Earth were Greta and Emily just sitting on the floor? 

“What are you doing in here, it is freezing,” he wrapped his arms around himself.

“Uhhh,” Greta glanced at Emily, who gave her a helpless look. “Science?”

“Science?” he stepped forward and poked the bucket with his toe. “With a whalebone bucket?”

They were both looked at each other again. Greta was giving Emily a very pointed look, which Emily returned with a pleading one.

“No, I am not going to tell him!” Greta hissed through closed teeth.

“Tell me what?” The Outsider turned his gaze from Greta to Emily.  Emily glanced up at him, clearly nervous.  That took him aback. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope!” Greta said quickly. “Nothing is wrong, we are all great. How was your day, did you do something new with your hair?”

Greta was stalling for Emily.  Something was defiantly going on, and it all centered around the whalebone bucket.

“Alright, if you will not tell me I can look at whalebone bucket to know what you were doing,” The Outsider declared airily.

“I’m pregnant!” Emily blurted out.

The Outsider felt the air had been sucked out of the room.  He knew that this moment was going to come and yet… it did not feel real until now. Greta was looking at him warily, Emily nervously.

“I know.”  He immediately winced. Why, oh gods why did he say that? That was among the worst things he could say.

“Wait, you knew?” Emily’s voice was hushed, and a bit hurt.

“You knew?!” shrieked Greta. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just… I couldn’t!” he put his head in his hands. “You do not say that, you can’t say that! I… I…” he was babbling now, gods.  Just stop.

He felt a hand touch his, gentle and soft.  He allowed his hand to be taken away from his face.  Emily was standing before him, smiling an understanding, bittersweet smile.

“You were scared,” her voice was kind and sweet. “You did not want to take something away from me, but you still wanted to make your feelings known.  That’s why you took me to see your whales.”

He could not help breathe a sigh of relief.  Thank goodness he was able to convey what he felt, that he wanted to have this child. Thank the gods for whales; those creatures never let him down.

Even so, the pit in his stomach did not go away.  Was the emotion fear, or nerves?  He should feel at ease and yet… 

The Outsider reached out to Emily, placing his hand on her cheek.  She leaned into the touch; the pit in his gut lessened a bit at that. 

“Are you alright with this?” the question was hesitant, a whisper.   

She locked eyes with him, and he could see her anxiety there too.  But there was also a calm certainty, warmth, and love. 

“I am more than alright,” Emily’s voice matched the look in her eyes. “I want this, I want you beside me.”

Emotion closed his throat.  Unable to say a word, the Outsider embraced Emily, kissing her.

***

Greta cleared her throat, interrupting the couple. “So, er, are you guys on the same page now?”

The two slowly turned to look at her, the Outsider’s dark eyes particularly piercing.

“Like, uh, you guys are clearly up for reproducing correct?” she stuttered out, feeling exceptionally awkward.  Well, sitting on the floor of a bathroom while being a voyeur to a pregnancy reveal is naturally awkward.  Talking simply worsened it.

“Must you put it so bluntly?” the Outsider said, his voice colored with disappointment.

Greta folded her arms defensively. “You know I’m no good at any of that mushy stuff. Besides, someone has to talk business.”

Emily gave her a funny look. “What about any of this is business?”

“Well for starters, you need to take extra steps to stay healthy,” she sat up straight. “This is assuming that everything is normal because the father of your child is not human.”

A look of poorly concealed fear overtook the Outsider’s face.  Emily simply looked more confused.

“The bucket says the child is healthy.”

Greta could not help but give a snicker at that statement. “Yes, it does.  But that is today, this month. It might change next month. And the child not being healthy will very likely affect you, just like you getting sick will affect it.”

“Is there any way I can do anything?” the Outsider was painfully anxious, Emily finally noticing his fear.

Greta shrugged. “I mean, probably? You should know spells and bonecharms and amulets and whatnot? Maybe talk with the Void and see what it thinks… if it does think.”

A sharp look crossed his face and he ran a hand through his hair. His other hand let go of Emily and he paced around the bathroom.  Her eyes followed him. 

“Outsider?” worry and curiosity filled the question.

A strangled laugh came out of him. “The Void is not going to like this.”

A flicker of fear crossed Emily’s face before being chased off by stubbornness. She strode forward and took the Outsider’s face into her hands.

“I will not let the Void take this from us, I do not give a damn what it thinks. It will learn to like it, whether it wants to or not.”

The look of love and adoration the Outsider gave Emily nearly gave Greta cavities.  The Sister rolled her eyes, yet could not help but smile.

“If you want, I can ask Sister Reilly and Marzia to keep an eye on your health?” Greta offered, trying not to break the mood.

“Actually,” Emily turned to look at her, and Greta was surprised that she looked sheepish. “Can this not leave the room for a while? I will tell you when I want others to know, if that is alright?”

“Gosh, of course this is alright!” Greta was finally moved to her feet. “This is between the two of you; I’m only really here by happenstance. But still, I recommend bringing those two into the loop; they are really skilled at what they do.”

“I’ll be fine Greta,” Emily assured her with a laugh. 

“I will make sure she will be,” the Outsider added, quietly but earnestly.

A relieved smile crossed the Sister’s face. “Excellent! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to empty this bucket and smuggle it back to the Chapel unnoticed.”

***

Emily walked out of the bathroom, flexing her fingers as her nerves buzzed.  The Outsider followed her out, brimming with anxiety.

“Are you sure you want this?”  the words came out in a panicked rush.  “Are you really sure?”

Emily came to a stop and put her hands on his shoulders, tempted to shake him. “Outsider, when you took me to see your whales, I decided that if I was going to have a child it would be yours.  Combine that with the fact that it is my job to find an heir, and this little situation happens to be perfect for me.  I get to have your pretty child, Parliament won’t nag me about not having a successor, and I get to parent alongside you. This happened sooner than I would have planned it to, but I am content with it.”

The Outsider blinked slowly, seeming to digest her words. He opened his mouth, and out came a befuddled:

“Pretty?”

“Of course!” Emily couldn’t help giving him a wide grin. “Your looks with mine, how could our child not be pretty?”

 Pink bloomed on his cheeks. It seemed that he was not expecting that compliment.  Then again, she never much did verbally compliment his appearance, as she was content to let her actions speak of her appreciation of his fine looks.  Immediately she resolved to compliment him more often.

“You promise I will acknowledged?” he asked uncertainly.

“Proudly,” she squeezed his shoulders, trying to project her determination. “I don’t give a damn about what people think, I’m not my mother.  We might need to get married though, are you alright with that?”

“Yes!” a large smile grew on his face alongside a blush. “I know it’s for convenience and all but I’m really honored and-”

Emily couldn’t help herself.  He was just so endearing and pretty, she had to kiss him!  Happily he returned the kiss, wrapping an arm around her waist and another behind her neck. She sunk her fingers into his short hair, very much enjoying herself.

“Egh-hem!”

They pulled apart to see Greta giving them a raised eyebrow and a fond smile. “You two just can’t help yourselves can you? Unfortunately I have to take off and return all the stuff I brought with me. Sister Mary has a knack for sniffing out missing stuff.  Let me know if you want any books on midwifing. Thanks to Sister Reilly we have a very good collection. Also I can ask my extended family for advice and stuff if you want me too.”

At those words all of Emily’s good humor vanished in an instant.  Absolutely nobody close to her had been through this.  Who could she count on for intimate advice, not wrenched from a book or by hearsay?  Corvo, perhaps, could help her.  But truly, his advice would be more fitting for the Outsider’s ears.  The only one who could really put her at ease was her mother, and she is gone.  Not even the Outsider could bring her back.

Emily forced down the sudden growing grief, but her effort must have failed as Greta was staring at her with wide-eyed concern. Wordlessly the Outsider wrapped his arms around her and Emily gratefully squeezed him tight, her eyes burning and throat tight.

“I’m sorry,” her whispered.   Emily inhaled deeply, her breath catching.  Void, she had to pull herself together.

“I promise that I won’t ever write to my family for any sort of advice for you without asking permission,” Greta’s voice, though concerned, was gentle and calm. “I figured that since there really isn’t a book to recommend that such advice can help.”

Emily nodded, taking a moment to rally her voice. “Thank you Greta, you offer doesn’t offend me. I just…” she breathed again, fighting damned tears. “I just wish I could ask my mom for advice.”

There was a beat of silence. The Outsider was quiet, and Emily was content to hide her face against him.  She could practically hear Greta thinking.

“Is she gone?” the Sister asked kindly, melancholy mixed with hope.

“Yes,” the Outsider replied, his voice barely breaking the hush.

“I see,” Greta’s voice, filled with sympathetic sorrow, brought an overwhelming feeling to her throat.  Emily tried to even out her shuddering breath, tears flowing from her eyes. As her frustration with her sudden grief grew, she felt another pair of arms wrap around her.

“It’s ok to feel sad and upset,” Greta commented soothingly, her voice issuing from somewhere around Emily’s shoulder blades. “And it’s okay to be annoyed with your emotions changing so quickly. It’s going to be a thing for a while, and I know it sucks, especially when people are expecting you to be even-keeled. But if you ask me you’ve been doing a great job with that. I am here for you when you need to be nonsensical.”

“And I as well,” the Outsider added quietly.

Finally she managed to suck in an even breath, her grief finally suffocated beneath the embraces of her lover and best friend.  It would be alright.  Rough, like the winter sea, but alright in the end.

“Thank you, both of you,” Emily said, her voice still small.

“It is the least I can do,” the Outsider replied rather seriously, loosening his embrace. Greta too let go as Emily straightened out, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.  Void, she really was glad she fell apart in private; in front of two people she could trust not to say anything.

“Greta, do you mind setting aside some of the better midwifing books for me?” asked the Outsider, sounding somewhat hesitant. Emily turned her head and watched Greta brighten, a smile crossing her freckled face.

“Sure can do! There are also some occult ones you can look over if you’re interested.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, the hint of a smile on his lips. “You seem to know quite a bit about this already.”

“Oh, that’s because I lived with my elder brothers when their wives were pregnant,” Greta replied with an easygoing shrug. “I picked up a little bit on the nuances, bit it’s been around 10 years since I was last available to help them out so my memory is a little fuzzy.”

“Then I can refresh your memory,” Emily declared playfully, feeling a smile return to her face.

“Yes!” cried Greta, clapping her hands as she brimmed with energy. “Ok, now I really have to get going. Both of you take care, and if you need me, you know where to find me.”

Emily smiled back at her, good spirits fully returned. A difficult road may be ahead of her, but with those she loved by her side, she could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lordy this was later than I planned on uploading! Work slammed me hard, so here it is three days late. This is it for the week, so we are back to the fortnight upload schedule after this. Thank you so much for the support!


	40. Chapter 39: Corvo Feels His Age

**Chapter 39: Corvo Feels His Age**

Emily was hiding something. That was not particularly unusual, but usually he was able to discern what she was hiding. She tried to hide her relationship with Wyman, but he was able to piece that together in a matter of four days. She hid her nightly rooftop excursions, though it was easy enough to follow her, to keep an eye on her. Most often, she tried to hide when she was sick.

Corvo never could pinpoint just exactly why Emily hated visiting doctors, but she always did. Even when she was a baby she kicked up a fuss, wriggling out of their hands and screeching like a seagull. Thank goodness she was rarely in poor health. But the Void forbid she fall ill. Not only did it cause him great worry, Emily almost always refused to see the doctor until she had become too ill to protest.

He hoped this was not one of those times.

Truly, he would have to be spectacularly awful at his job to not notice the abnormal ebb and flow of her appetites. Just last week, while the Queen of Morley dined with them, she ate nothing but variations of toast one day, then the next it was almost anything bland on the table. This had been lasting for nearly a month if he was doing his math right. Corvo was certainly tempted to wrangle Emily in for a checkup if this continued for one more week.

He was pondering what Emily had asked Greta to bring that had prompted the Sister to lug in a large sack when a cleared throat pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Is this where we meet for dinner?"

It was Billie, a small folder tucked under her arm and a touch of apprehension on her face.

"Lurk," Corvo greeted, lifting his head off of his folded hands and turning slightly towards the woman. "I did not realize you were invited to dinner."

"Emily said that she had something to discuss with me and that I should come to dinner," replied Billie with a small shrug. "I am not too early, am I?"

He gestured to the empty chair next to him. "Only as early as I am. Take a seat."

She placed the folder on the empty tabletop, pulling out the chair and taking her seat. The clock in the corner chimed six times. Only ten minutes left, give or take.

"What is in the folder?" Corvo tapped the stiff paper.

"Updated information on the Threshers, kindly given to us by the assassins," there was a wry smirk at the words 'kindly given'. "I figured Emily as well as yourself would like to hear about it."

"You figured correctly, at least on my end," he replied, leaning again on his folded hands. "Emily seems to be rather distracted as of late, not wishing to discuss the fallout of King Seamus' death."

A sigh came from Billie. "I can understand that. I think she is hoping that I am able to do most of the cleaning up; after all, this mess came from my miscalculations."

Corvo hummed, raising his eyebrows. "A miscalculation endorsed by the Outsider."

"He does not see it as a miscalculation," she sounded mystified. "A setback for Emily, but other than that, he is satisfied with how things have gone. I cannot imagine why."

The hinges of the door creaked, and there was a pair of footsteps. Corvo did not have to turn around to know it was Emily, Eulalia upon her shoulder. And it seemed she saw fit to bring the Outsider with her.

"Perhaps you could ask him over dinner," he murmured to Billie.

"Ask me what?" The Outsider raised an eyebrow as he slid into his seat across from Billie. Emily took the remaining one somewhat stiffly. Corvo greeted her with a smile, which she returned, but there was an air of nervousness around her. What could be going on?

Billie locked eyes with the deity, a bold move. "Why are you so untroubled by King Seamus' assassination?"

Emily rang a bell to summon a maid, who darted into the room and began to set the table. The Outsider leaned back into the chair, a small smile crossing his face.

"Because Morley is returning to their roots. No longer will their rulers ascend through primogenitor, rather they are returning to tanistry."

Everyone turned to look at him, utterly confused.

"Tanistry?" Emily sounded just as lost as he felt. The Outsider shifted to face her, clearly surprised.

"You do not know about it? It is an old custom, one that was discontinued in the 1500s. All men within a paternal bloodline are candidates for succession, whether or not they are the son of the current or deceased ruler. And the ruler themselves may favor a candidate but not choose him themselves."

The door creaked open again, this time to allow the first part of dinner to be wheeled in and served. Corvo was mildly amused to see Eulalia given her own small bowl of seeds, which she dove into with great relish. Billie frowned over the leek and potato soup.

"So who chooses?" she asked.

"In the past, it was all the males of the family of age. They would choose among themselves who the successor will be," as soon as the servant left the Outsider picked up the bowl and began to sip from it. Corvo could not contain a sigh at his behavior. "Now, it is council of the highest lords and ladies of Morley, and-" he took a large gulp from the bowl. "Women are eligible for election."

There was a beat of silence as they digested both the information and the soup.

"How are you certain that this will happen?" Corvo asked, doubtful.

The Outsider put down his soup bowl with a clunk, his mouth thankfully closed as he chewed. He held up his wrist and flicked it. Between his fingers were two audiograph cards, a folder, and a letter.

"There were already talks about it among the Connells, Gilroys, Cassidys, Mahons, Fitzpatricks, Kerrys, and Abernathys before his death. Seamus spelled it out in his will." The items floated out of his hand and neatly arranged themselves on the table. "It will take a full year to set up, which is time we could use."

"Wait, Seamus spelt it out in his will?" Emily leaned across him and picked up the folder, opening it and leafing through, her soup abandoned. The Outsider promptly switched his empty bowl for her half-eaten one.

"He had no desire to split up the Empire of the Isles, however his eldest has been jockeying for Morlean independence for years. This was the best way to ensure it would end up in the hands of one of his sons that is friendlier to the crown."

Billie made a face at that. "Why not name one of his other sons then?"

"Dáire is a strong leader with many supporters," Emily answered somewhat absently. "He worked his way up Morley's fleet. If Seamus shunned him for Fintan then there would be danger of revolt."

"Dáire also has the support of the Abbey through his twin Abbán," Corvo added, before turning to the Outsider. "What makes you think they will accept this departure in tradition?"

A very toothy smile crossed the deity's face. "Abbán might not like it, but Dáire? How could he not like a call to the past, when Morley was free of Gristol's control? Besides, he is a very popular choice. There is little risk of playing a game you are sure to win."

A maid swept in from the corner of the room and took the empty bowls from the table. Moments later, the main meal itself was ushered onto their plates. Emily carefully put the copy of the will to the side and gave the Outsider a shrewd look.

"You have been whispering in Dáire's ear, haven't you?"

He affected a look of innocence. "Dear Empress, I am only fulfilling my role as one of your Spymaster's assistants!"

"One who terrible at informing their superior of their activities," Billie chided before neatly digging into the trout. "Not that I disapprove."

Emily's gaze turned towards her, surprised. Corvo silently ate his greens. As much as he wished he could say he disapproved, having a deity manipulate their opponents was sorely needed advantage in this situation. Emily seemed to realize that with a short sigh. She slowly picked at her food, not looking exceptionally hungry. The Outsider too was not eating, rather staring at Emily with concern.

"You really should try to eat," he murmured.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Alright, mother," Emily rather aggressively stabbed the fish with her fork and yanked out a piece before shoving it into her mouth.

Billie sucked in air between her teeth, looking rather uncomfortable. She picked up her forgotten file and tucked it away, clearly not keen on discussing it. The Outsider seemed none too bothered, simply turning to his plate. In spite of the somewhat tense air, Corvo sensed an opening.

"Emily, I have noticed that your appetite has been rather irregular," he began. "Are you alright?"

His daughter shot him an irritated glare. "I am fine Corvo!"

"Are you sure about that?" Corvo raised an eyebrow. "It seems that the Outsider is also concerned about you."

The Outsider stopped halfway between shoving half of the fillet in his mouth, wide-eyed and a touch nervous.

"He is merely overprotective," Emily dismissed, cutting her vegetables.

Corvo shifted his gaze over to the deity, who slowly resumed eating. He was moving as little as possible, as if to avoid getting spotted.

"Overprotective? Why is that?" He questioned the Outsider.

"Emily is pregnant!" Billie blurted out.

Silence filled the room. Emily slowly put down her silverware, while the Outsider quickly swallowed the food in his mouth. Even Eulalia paused in her eating, standing still. On Corvo's end, he felt like his thoughts came to an abrupt stop, like a broken audiograph.

"How?" the question tumbled from his mouth.

The Outsider cleared his throat. "You see Corvo, when a man and a woman love each other very much-"

"Shut, up," Corvo snarled, cutting off the deity. "I do not need your sass right now."

This was not good, not good at all. He began to rub his temples. What a mess.

"I am so sorry Emily," said Billie, her tone utterly contrite.

"That was not your news to share, Lurk," Emily replied curtly. She shifted her gaze from Billie to him; it was stubborn and a touch defiant. "I knew you would not be thrilled, but I am surprised that you are so displeased."

Corvo let out a long sigh and reached across the table, offering his hand to her. Emily did not hesitate in taking it, a flicker of relief crossing her face.

"I wish it was simple," he started, a small smile coming onto his face. "In the simple aspects of it, so long as this brings you joy I will celebrate in it. No matter what I will always love and support you, and I will come to love and support you child too."

"But it is not simple," Emily's tone was wary.

"And you have your mother and I to blame for that," the words prompted a sardonic chuckle from him. "As you know, your mother refused to name who the father of her child was in order for you to be named heir. It worked, but only just.

All eyes were on him, he could feel it. But all he cared about right now was Emily.

"Her Cabinet and members of Parliament passed a mandate upon Jessamine. You, Emily, are to be her heir only until she married someone respectable and provided a legitimate heir."

"But she never did," whispered Emily, a bittersweet smile on her lips and pain in her voice.

Emotion tightened Corvo's throat. "She never wanted to. She loved you too much, loved me too much."

"And so the mandate was passed down to you."

The moment was broken. Corvo pulled his gaze from Emily to the Outsider. The deity was staring off into the middle distance, an expression of disgust on his face.

"What do you know of this?" Corvo asked harshly. He was not keen to have Jessamine judged by that black-eyed bastard.

"Nothing but what you have said and what I have inferred," the Outsider spat back. "I was foolish to not expect such a thing. I was foolish to think that they would simply accept an insult to high society, simply out of political convenience."

"An insult!" Corvo found himself on his feet, anger uncontained. "How dare you!"

"Face the facts Attano," the Outsider replied coldly. "While Emily is a delight and no empress could be better, your background is still seen as a stain. Powerful people still judge others by their blood. Get the Inchmouths in the right crowd, gather Paul Bunting and Christoph Ryswell, Barons Griess and Sturgess out of royal earshot. They bemoan the fact that you are her father. She is considered great in spite of you, not because you are part of her."

"And do you think you will escape that?" Corvo snarled.

"We perhaps could have, if you saw fit to tell us," Emily replied gently.

Those words were like cold water on his temper. He stared dumbly at his daughter.

"None of us predicted this happening," Emily continued. "But it would have been wise to know that I was expected to fix my mother's supposed wrong. I guess you never told me before because I was with Wyman, a perfectly acceptable partner for high society. But you never said a word when chose to be with the Outsider, when you knew we were sexually involved. Why?"

Corvo ran a hand through his hair, wincing. "Why? I did not think it would be so… permanent."

The Outsider slammed his hands onto the table as he stood, prompting a yelp out of the silent Billie and a squawk from Eulalia.

"Gods damn you Corvo!" he shouted, furious. "How could you still think I am so fickle? What have I done to deserve this judgment?"

"Sit down!" Emily snapped, her gaze as commanding as her tone. "Please do not curse my father."

The Outsider slowly sat down, grumbling something under his breath as he folded his arms. Satisfied, she returned her eyes to Corvo.

"Is that it? That was the only reason you though not to tell me?"

He shook his head. "No. The other reason, which is in a way part of the first reason, is that I did not think the two of you could have children together."

Emily nodded slowly. "Alright. Please, sit Corvo."

Suddenly aware he was standing, he awkwardly took his seat. Billie held up a finger, a frown on her face.

"I am somewhat lost. What does this mean for the child?"

Corvo placed his face in his hands for a moment. Void, he really did not want to say this to Emily. But she was looking at him expectantly; he had to do this.

"The child is illegitimate, and thus cannot be heir to the throne," he murmured with a groan in his voice. "Marriage alone will not fix it; the mandate specifies that the child's father must be of noble blood, and you must be married to him."

Emily hummed. "So, who other than you knows about this?"

That gave Corvo pause. Those who insisted on the mandate were an old lot, a dead lot. Only one other person still in Parliament knew about this quiet legal decree, a very unlikely person too.

"Harold Baldwin," he answered.

A sudden sharp bark came from Billie. "Well, that makes things easy. The man will believe anything we tell him."

A sudden, brilliant smile crossed Emily's face. "You're right! I think I know what we could do now."

Feeling lost, Corvo found himself exchanging a look with the Outsider, who glared sharply at him while shrugging.

"Yes, but will Abele agree to it?" Billie asked thoughtfully, a hushed quality to her voice.

"I believe so, if we request it in person and offer a couple incentives," Emily replied eagerly.

"Wait, wait!" the Outsider leaned forward, leaning his elbow. "Think about this, do we really, I mean really want to make Duke Abele… our child's grandfather? The Duke who still has the stain of allowing his "mad double" to orchestrate your coup? Not to mention that he and I look nothing alike?"

Billie rolled her eyes. "You'll simply take after your mother in looks."

"No, he has a point," Corvo said. "His mother can be Serkonan, but we should think outside of Serkonos for noble lineage."

"Why is that?" Emily frowned. "It would be easiest to convince the duke to claim him as his bastard; he has the right age for it, the right place as well. He is nobility without question."

"So is the Voronin family," the Outsider added with a toothy grin.

Once again Corvo's thought process slowed to a halt. The Voronins of Pradym, exiled to Bastillian, drinkers of blood and keepers of crows. Those whose elders gouged out their eyes and went to live their final days in the cold ancestral lands. Of course the Outsider would choose this family to adopt him.

"You truly want to associate yourself with those crazy Tyvians?" Corvo cried.

Emily frowned. "Are they not princes in exile? The Tyvian government will not approve."

"They might still be princes in exile but they are exceedingly popular in their region of Tyvia and tolerated by the government," Billie added. "Largely because they choose not question it, return whenever there is an election to participate in it, and generously lobby on Tyvia's behalf in the court of Duke Abele. What is giving me pause is Attano here calling them… crazy."

"Trust me when I tell you that dealing with them is a mistake," he insisted. No way was touching that bucket of Void-inspired crazy going to end well. "Please, just choose another family."

"Come now Attano, would you not mistake me for one of them?" the Outsider crooned, his smile abnormally wide and sharp.

"Yes," he replied flatly. "But that does not mean you should drag Emily into dealing with them."

Emily folded her hands and rested her chin upon them. "Perhaps I should meet them first, and then we could decide what to do."

"It would take a month to plan, and that is if the Voronins accept the invitation," Billie

"And if they do not, we can always go to Duke Abele," Emily declared with some finality.

So it seemed that this was happening. Corvo could not suppress a long sigh. This was for the greater good. In the long run it would make Emily and his grandchild happy. Oh void he was going to be a grandparent! Where had all the time gone?

"Are you sure that you can convince them, Outsider?" he asked tiredly.

"Of course I can," the deity replied confidently. "After all, they do worship me."

 


	41. Chapter 40: Words, Words, Words!

**Chapter 40: Words, Words, Words!**

The Outsider was expecting today to be a thoroughly regular day. Wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast with Emily, spend the morning relearning and writing down all the little bits of maternity magic he absorbed over the centuries, eat lunch on his own as the Tyvian trade committee claimed Emily for that, then spend the afternoon and evening probing the three Threshers for more information about their little organization for Billie, clarifying the points they had so kindly given the first interrogator.

That changed when Betty came in with the mail.

"Here is you mail Empress," the maid presented an organized stack of letters. "And a letter for you, Mr. Pharmakós."

He took the envelope in surprise, trying to read the return address. But the handwriting, it was atrocious. He hoped to the gods the rest of the letter was typed.

"Who is it from?" Emily asked curiously from behind her teacup. Eulalia warbled from her plate, pecking away at a scone.

"I don't know," he quietly replied, giving up on reading the return address. The envelope opened smoothly enough, and he pulled out the letter.

The godsdamned thing was handwritten. The Outsider peered at it, bringing it up to his face as if it would help. He could make out his name, a greeting, and the rest was a squiggly mess. Jumping to the bottom was no better. The signature read Cheryl… Potter?

"I literally cannot read this," he admitted in frustration. "Here, can you decipher this for me?"

Emily took it, setting down her tea. "Dear Mr. Pharmakós, I hope you remember us. I am writing on the behalf of the Factory Union. When we last crossed paths you said you were sympathetic to our cause. I hope you would be amenable to meeting with us for an interview. It will be published in our monthly newsletter. You may reply through mail or by appearing in person to our offices at 24 Stays lane. Sincerely, Cheryl Potter."

The Outsider swallowed his embarrassment alongside half a scone at the ease in which she deciphered that loopy mess. Emily neatly folded the letter and handed it back to him.

"When did you run into a worker's union?" she asked curiously.

"It was back when I was trying to corral Pericles," he tucked the letter back into its envelope. "They are rather intent on having me speak to them, though I am not sure why."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Not sure why? You are a well-known figure who is sympathetic to their cause. They want to see how you can best assist them."

"They must be starved for support if they are going after somebody whose only qualification is that they so happen to love the right person," he retorted lightly.

"Shush!" she chided him with a fond smile. "You have a keen mind and a strong knowledge of human nature. They might not know that yet, but I'm sure they will find it out by just talking to you."

The Outsider felt his cheeks warm at the compliment. "Do you think I should approach them?"

"I don't see why not," Emily took a sip of her tea. "They seem like decent enough folk, and if you would like to talk to them I say go for it."

He hummed, thinking about it. There was no harm in talking to them, if he did not like it he could just leave. Besides, he had time today. Might as well drop by and see what was wanted of him.

* * *

24 Stays Lane was a quiet little place, tucked between the large factory buildings and the tenements. It boasted a large shop window that was sorely in need of a dusting. The Outsider shivered at the chill underneath his coat. Still he could not get the whale-oil stains out of it. There was no knocker on the pale yellow door. Was he supposed to simply walk in?

"Excuse me, can I help you?" It was a plainly dressed young man with wide green eyes. He had a small stack of newspapers tucked under his arm and a cap over his messy hair.

"I was invited to visit the offices of the Factory Union," The Outsider held up the envelope as if it was some sort of pass. "I cannot tell if they are open, and the door lacks a knocker."

The youth stared at him, puzzled. "Why, you can just walk in. I do it all the time."

The Outsider sighed. "Of course," he murmured. The youth darted forward, yanking the door open with a smile.

"Well, don't just stand there sir! Come in!"

The inside of the building was not as dusty as its window lead him to believe. The first room was wallpapered with a light blue, and an assortment of dissimilar furniture decorating the place spoke to the poverty of the organization. An older woman sat at a desk tucked between several file cabinets, and a threadbare set of chairs were placed before it.

"Hey Ms. Potter! A fellow is here to see you," The youth announced, walking across the room to the door at the back.

"Thank you Levi," Ms. Potter replied somewhat absently as the youth exited. "You may have a seat in one of the chairs."

It took a moment for the Outsider to realize the woman was talking to him. Feeling rather unsure of himself, he took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, folding his hands into his lap. The room was silent, if not for the ticking of the old clock on the wall nearby and the scratching of Ms. Potter's pen. He half wished he had brought his notebook with him. Finally, the pen was set down with a clink, and Ms. Potter looked up, sharp grey eyes regarding him with mild curiosity.

"So, what can I do for you, Mr…?"

"Pharmakós, ma'am," he replied politely. "I suppose this is actually a case of what I could do for you?"

Ms. Potter immediately perked up. "You certainly responded quickly. In any case, we are glad to have you!"

"Really?" he could not help his confusion.

"Of course!" Ms. Potter pulled out a new sheaf of paper and smoothed it out. "You are the first person of the aristocratic class to even consider talking to us."

That truly surprised him. "Nobody thought to come down or invite you to their office to hear you out?"

Now Ms. Potter was confused as well. "What do you mean by that?"

"You must have reached out to far more suitable people before coming to me," he leaned forward in the chair. "After all, I am sure Sinjean DeLuc would gladly hear you out, as would MP Emerson and MP Bennet. You could even try MP Baldwin, though he is not the sort you can rely on."

The woman froze, her jaw slowly falling open. "Reaching… out? To Aristocrats?"

"Well yes?" The Outsider tilted his head. "It is not illegal to write to them you know, their addresses are all public. Not to mention they _are_ public servants, it is their job to hear out your grievances."

Ms. Potter flushed bright red, tapping the pen against her desk fitfully. It occurred to him that neither she nor anyone else in the organization even dared to reach out to those in power.

"Have you even thought of writing to the Empress?" he suggested as lightly as he could. "She reads every letter she gets, she always brings them up with the right people."

"We discussed it," Ms. Potter replied shortly, flashing a tight smile. "It was deemed a waste of the Empress' time. She surely has bigger issues to deal with than a local union's crusade for a better wage and better hours."

It pleased him that these people saw Emily as potentially sympathetic and a possible advocate. It also demoralized him to see these same people put no faith in what he would consider the more approachable servants of government. It was an unspoken truth- Parliament was solely the voice for the wealthy and powerful. How _wrong_ that was to him, how utterly wrong. Yet such was the way of the world, though perhaps it could be changed.

"Just because she deals with bigger issues does not mean she has no time or sympathy for smaller issues," he declared with utter certainty. "I am here because she shares my sympathy. But to be honest, my voice holds little power. I have no influence in Parliament. All I have is small connections and advice."

Ms. Potter sighed, giving him a tired look. "What do you advise, Mr. Pharmakós?"

He flashed a smile. "Well, definitely contact MPs Emerson and Bennet, and Secretary DeLuc. Tell Secretary DeLuc that I asked you to write to him. Continue your organizing efforts, try to get in contact with unions across Gristol. See if you can coordinate with them. Have a set of unified goals you all can agree on and press you MPs hard. Protest your conditions by refusing to work, have the whole union refuse to work and shun those that do work. Tie your rights as workers to the right to vote. Universal suffrage will ensure that your measures stick."

She wrote them down quickly with practiced speed, her concentration similar to that of a keen student. The creak of the door's hinges caused him to look up. The youth from earlier- Levi, was strolling in with his face half buried in the rag officially called _THE BUGLE_. He peeked over the pages with a keen look in his wide eyes.

"I could not help but hear you were advocating for universal suffrage."

The Outsider blinked. "Of course. With everyone being able to vote then Parliament would be a proper voice for the nation, rather than just the rich and powerful."

The youth plopped down in the other chair, laying the paper down on his lap. "So you do not believe the Empress is the voice of the nation?" he asked.

"She is, but she is also the voice of the Empire. She is not Gristol's alone, she is also Tyvia's Morley's and Serkonos'," the Outsider tried to order his thoughts. "She is a crucial unifying force. But would you rather also have someone that represents you, someone who very directly answers to you? That is the power you would get in voting for you MP. They would have to make laws that benefit you because if they do not, then you can get them out of office nonviolently."

A large smile crossed Levi's face. "I like the way you think. I'm glad the Empress is keeping you close. Hey, we're holding a city-wide meeting next week, why don't you come speak at it?"

"Er…" the Outsider paused for time, trying to come up with a good excuse. "I am not sure that is the best idea."

"Come now Mr. Pharmakós!" Ms. Potter cajoled from behind the desk. "We heard you have quite a sweet tongue"

"In what context?" he replied flatly.

Levi laughed while Ms. Potter made an effort to look aghast but seemed just as amused.

"Man, the Empress must be _very_ happy with you," Levi waggled his eyebrows. "Though, you might want to know that this rag is suggesting otherwise."

"Really?" he drawled, utterly unsurprised. Levi fluffed out the paper and turned to the "society" section before presenting him it.

"OLD ROMANCE REKINDLED? EMPRESS SPOTTED AT THE FITZPATRICKS" read the headline. Underneath the headline and sandwiched between the utter drivel of an article was a lovingly rendered image of a woman entering the Fitzpatricks' townhouse. Her face was turned away, but her hair was in a similar style to Emily's. Only…

"She does not own that outfit, or anything like it," he murmured, confused. "Assuming this is a sketch drawn from life, and it is highly likely that it is, there is no way that can be Emily. Not to mention that she is utterly fed up with Wyman and his wife and would never ever do herself the dishonor of being the mistress to a married man."

"You know a lot about her clothes," Levi said with an insinuating tone.

"Well I have taken them off her quite a bit so I would like to think I am at least somewhat familiar with the outfits she owns," he replied somewhat snappishly as he scanned the article. It was a whole lot of nothing, simply THE BUGLE assuming that the black-haired woman that looked like Emily was Emily, and that Emily was rekindling a relationship with Wyman. "They seem to be thinking Arabel DeLuc is the Empress."

Ms. Potter looked surprised. "Arabel DeLuc? Is she related to Sinjean DeLuc?"

"They are cousins," the Outsider answered absently. "She is currently Merida Fitzpatrick's dear companion. I wonder why this paper is not taking that into account."

Levi shrugged. "They are ignoring facts to get juicy gossip. It happens all the time. Heck, sometimes people can commission articles from THE BUGLE if you have enough money or a good enough story. My uncle did that to prank my dad once. Dad never forgot…"

"Wait, you can commission articles from them?" Wheels were turning in the Outsider's head. There were so many uses for that. "Will they say they are commissions?"

Levi shook his head. "You can pay a little more if you want to know if someone commissioned an article from them, but usually they play it off like real news."

"Fascinating," the Outsider murmured. "Utterly fascinating."

* * *

Storage was cold and quiet that late morning. Greta breathed into her gloved hands and rubbed them in a futile attempt to keep them warm. She was tempted to go out and borrow her bed warmer to warm her hands on, but truly the cold was not so bad after one adjusted to it. Humming a ditty, Greta walked over to the table.

On it was a most curious book. Something about the cover gave her the shivers; it looked like normal leather, but there were strange dark stains and markings on it. Carefully, Greta picked it up, taking a look at the spine to see if it bore the book's title. It did not, however it did bear a series of symbols embossed in gold. Curiosity piqued, she placed the book on a book stand and carefully opened it.

Immediately she could smell the fresh ink and glue, the binding creaked gently as it bent, the pages were smooth and strong. This strange book was new, very new. She kept turned the first few blank pages; finally, title page!

**_ON THE NATURE OF GODS_ **

**_Gnaeus Valens Salvius_ **

_Translated by Charles Holst and Carmen Vela_

_Published by the Durante Publishing House for Ivan Jacobi_

Gods?! Greta stared at the book in surprise. Where did she hear about gods before? She combed her memories. All that came up was a serious Elanor disclosing that gods did in fact exist and they had once nearly broken the world… and a black hole where the rest of the memory was.

"Again?!" she groaned and put her head in her hands. How did it happen this time? There was no corrupted rune like the first time, no bonecharms like the last time. Was she just going crazy?

She pulled her notebook out of her pocket. They might be able to wipe her memories, but not her notebooks. All she had to do was take notes on this strange book, a book that was both old and new at the same time. She flipped the page, praying there was a table of contents.

**_CRASH_ **

The sound of falling books, shattered glass, and a person's yelp caused Greta to jump in her seat, throwing the notebook onto the open book and the pencil across the table. She was frozen in her chair, senses on high alert. Someone was in here, someone who was not supposed to be in here.

Greta slowly slid off the stool she was seated on. She flexed her right hand, feeling power flow through it. Closing her eyes, Greta looked further into the long hall that lead deeper into Storage. Underneath a fallen bookcase lay a young woman, clearly unconscious. Feeling somewhat more at ease that the intruder was knocked out, Greta grabbed a spool of twine that was sitting on the table and ran over to the downed bookcase.

The damn thing was heavy wood, but it was not too difficult to heave off the woman… well, girl would be more accurate. Once the bookcase was back in the proper spot, Greta was better able to assess the damage. Books were strewn everywhere, several bore broken spines, a couple had torn pages, and one had its cover ripped clear off. As for the glass, it had come from the opposite case holding preserved animals, dried organs, and other gross things. When the shelf toppled over it hit the other one, causing the glass to shatter. Thankfully nothing else from that case had broken.

Greta glared at the still unconscious intruder. The most remarkable thing about her other than the red lines of paint on her face that acted as some odd makeup was the girl's dark purple hair. From the way she was arranged, Greta guessed she tried to climb the bookshelf and caused it to topple over. Bubbling with irritation and anger, Greta turned her over, using the twine to bind her hands behind her back. Then she picked up the surprisingly heavy girl, dragging her over to lean seated against the wall. And for extra security, she tied the girl's feet together, both through twine and her shoelaces. With the intruder neutralized, it was time to clean up.

She was half way through reshelving the uninjured books when a groan announced the girl was back in this plain of existence. Greta sighed through her nose and finished putting away the books in her arms before climbing down the ladder and tucking it away. With that done, she walked over and sat across from the girl. She blinked blearily and tried to separate her arms.

"What… what is going on?" the girl asked, clearly disorientated. "Why am I tied up?"

Greta folded her arms. "You broke into a restricted archive managed by the Oracular Order. Who are you and why did you do it?"

"Will you throw me to the Overseers?" her voice trembled.

"That depends," Greta replied sternly. "Who are you and why are you here?"

The girl slouched, blowing a couple locks of hair out of her face. "Do you have to know?"

"Who do you want asking these questions? Me or an Overseer?" snapped Greta.

"Ok, Ok!" the girl sat up, looking slightly panicked. "My name is Juniper Daniels, my friends call me Juny. I am looking for a book that got lost."

Greta stared at her for a long moment. "A lost book?"

"Yes, I swear!" Juniper cried. "One day it was in my bag and the next it was just… gone."

"Books do not just disappear," Greta murmured to herself. Juniper looked ready to say something but she held up a hand to silence the girl. "Was it cursed, made with magic?"

The girl stared at her wide eyed, before forcing a laugh. "Whaaat, no! It is a totally normal book that must have been snatched."

"If it is totally normal, then why do you think it is here?" the Sister raised an eyebrow.

Juniper immediately clammed up. Greta shifted on the floor, feeling her bottom freeze on the chilled wood.

"Greta? Is this yours?" Sister Mary's voice faintly echoed from the far back of Storage.

Confused, Greta leaned back and looked down the hall. "What are you talking about Sister Mary?

At the very end she could see her mentor walking toward her holding a large canvas satchel. She could hear shuffling and scuffing from across her; out of the corner of her eye she could see Juniper trying to look around the bookcase.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" Sister Mary came to a stop just in front of the bookcase.

"We have a guest," Greta gestured at the girl with a nod. Sister Mary leaned over to look at Juniper, who flashed a sheepish smile at the Sister.

"Ah, an intruder," she raised her eyebrows as she slowly turned back to Greta. "This satchel must be hers then."

The girl paled noticeably, a feat for her dark tan skin. "Oh Void please do not take my bag from me, I will be in so much trouble if I lose that."

"The bag, or the books within?" Sister Mary said slyly, reaching into the satchel. "So we have _A Treatise on the Nature and Purpose of the Outsider_ , _Space Songs: The Lives of the Heaven's Lights_ , _The Grimoire of Athanasius_ , _A Treatise of All things that Move and Grow_ , and," she pulled out the final book with a look of mild disgust, placing it on top of the others. "… _Positions of Pleasure._ Is this bound in human leather?"

"Actually yes!" Juniper replied cheerily. "If you look at the back cover you can see the tattoos that the person had."

"Ugh!" Greta winced in disgust. "Who would bind a book in human skin?"

"Beats me," the girl shrugged, jostling the colorful scarf wrapped around her neck. "I grabbed it for the pictures to be honest."

Sister Mary sighed, crossing her arms. "What was this girl doing in here Greta?"

"She claims she is looking for a lost book," she answered, folding her arms too. "I think she is trying to steal some of our books."

"I am not!" Juniper cried, furious. "I can't even bloody read, so why would I be stealing books?"

"Someone paid you to do it," Sister Mary accused.

"No!" the girl screamed, straining against her bonds. "Look, I'm just supposed to keep these books safe, they are all we have left after the library was destroyed."

Greta frowned and leaned forward. "Who is we?"

Once again Juniper clammed up, looking nervous yet determined. Sister Mary leaned down and whispered into Greta's ear.

"We should call him."

"Call who?" she whispered back.

"Owen Pharmakós."

Greta properly turned her head and looked up at her mentor in shock. "What? Why?"

"This girl will be very useful to him and the Empress, I feel it in my bones," Sister Mary declared seriously. "Please, let me try to summon him."

Greta stared at the girl briefly, her mouth sealed tight as she practically drowned in the worn oversized overcoat she wore.

"Alright, go for it."

* * *

Billie carefully typed the handwritten notes the Outsider made when he interviewed Kathleen Psalter earlier that day. The woman was clearly confused as to why she was being interrogated again, but in her confusion spilled quite a bit of extra information about the Threshers. Namely that they were a vast secret society that blamed the ill fortune Morley's peasants on the aristocratic class, laying squarely at the feet of the Elder O'Conner Dons. Those O'Conner Dons had failed to protect their people from exploitation, thus a return to tradition and independence was necessary to put an end to the exploitation. The information he got from Luke Grady was particularly interesting- there was murmurings of a famine on the horizon. Billie heard the last famine occurred in the wake of their famous revolt in 1803, but if she recalled correctly, it did not last long. Now she was reading through the notes on Patrick Marion, but there were some of his angular words she could not quite decipher.

"Outsider," Billie looked up from her typewriter at the deity as he floated cross-legged at the back of the room, eating out of a jar of chutney while peering at a book floating in front of his face. "What did Patrick say when you asked him who the Thresher's leader was?"

"He said those in the cities named Dáire as their leader while those in the country named the Storm Petrel," he answered somewhat absently.

"The Storm Petrel?" she asked, turning back to the typewriter to put down what he said.

"Prince Énna O'Conner Don, the mad son," his words were muffled by the spoon in his mouth. "He thinks himself a bird, fled from Wynnedown when some of his fingers were removed to prevent him from 'flying'. His family thinks he is dead, but he has simply been wandering around the country, a prophet and beggar."

Billie stopped typing. Slowly she turned herself around and stared at him. "Are you certain of that?"

The Outsider finally tore his eyes off the book and frowned at her. "I am literally looking at him right now, listening to someone call him the Storm Petrel while giving him smoked fish. What more do you want?"

She threw up her hands. "I simply wanted to check."

"Oh that reminds me, we are going to have guests, I hope you do not mind," he stated lightly.

Billie gave him a look. "What do you mean we're going to have guests?"

Just as she finished her sentence three people appeared towards the front of the office: Greta, a grey-haired Oracular Sister, and a purple-haired teenage girl in frankly ridiculous set of ragged clothes. Her eyes, already wide with shock, landed on the Outsider and somehow bugged out.

"OUTSIDER'S BALLS!" she screamed loud enough that Greta and the older Sister covered their ears. Billie looked back at the deity, who was glaring at the girl like he couldn't believe what she just said, as well as looking exceptionally tired.

"What is with it with people saying things like that?" he asked, locking eyes with Billie. "Why are people so fascinated with my genitalia?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. "Please, do us a favor and never say those words again."

"No seriously," he gestured with his spoon, clearly curious and a touch concerned. "Is there something different about them?"

"Look if you are _really_ that concerned take it up with Emily," Billie groaned. "I do _not_ want to hear another word about your private parts."

She turned around to face the three guests, relocating the typewriter to the side before folding her hands neatly. "Now, how can I help you three?"

The purple-haired girl, who Billie was just noticing had her feet bound and hands tied behind her back, looked at her like she was some sort of celebrity. Greta cleared her throat.

"I caught this girl breaking into Storage, where we keep forbidden and heretical books and items, claiming to be looking for a lost book. My mentor, Sister Mary," the other sister gave her a wave. "Found a satchel filled with books that we thought Owen should take a look at."

At those words the bag was pulled off Sister Mary's shoulder and shot past Billie. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she turned around to see the Outsider open the satchel and gaze disinterestly at the first book, same thing with the second, then his eyes widened at the third.

"How did you get this?" his voice was quiet, cold.

The girl shivered, fright paling her dark skin. "Get what, sir?"

" _The Grimoire of Athanasius_!" the void rang in his words. "How did you get this when all his works were burned?"

Sister Mary and Greta exchanged a look, their faces bearing confusion similar to the girl's. The Outsider put the books back in the satchel and snapped his fingers. The whole thing disappeared and the girl let out a cry.

"No! Please, oh lord of the Void, please give them back!" she sank to the ground on her knees, looking close to tears.

"Why?" he finally put the jar of chutney away and got to his feet, a menacing look on his face.

"I… I'm supposed to keep them safe, never let them out of my sight, make sure they end up in the right hands!" a panicked sob entered her voice. "I already lost one, I can't lose the others! Not after the library burned!"

He slowly walked over to her, hands folded behind his back. "What do you mean, the library burned?"

She looked up at him, dumbfounded. "You do not know? Five months ago, the Ritual Hold exploded. Everything on the other side of the God's Eye burned. The Eye itself disintegrated. So many of us were lost, so much knowledge was lost. Outsider, how do you not know this?"

There was a moment of silence. Greta looked utterly lost, her mentor simply placid, listening.

"Owen, what in the void is she talking about?" Greta asked.

A long slow smile crossed his face. "This girl here is part of a centuries old cult, a cult older than me, a cult that worships the Void, and made me. And now, those bastards are dead, all their knowledge is dead, and I have their last, most important books."

The little Sister's mouth fell open, her eyes darting between the girl and the now gleeful Outsider. The girl was just staring up at him, her expression wounded.

"Why?" her voice was a whispered plea. "We made you a god, we worshiped you, and you smile at our deaths, at our loss."

An even wider, sharper smile overtook the Outsider's face. "Your beloved elders, they stripped me of my humanity, held me prisoner in the Void. If I had not been able to leave I would have had Billie Lurk cut my throat and free my miserable spirit from that wretched existence. A god? I was no god then, but I am now. And I declare that you and your fellow Eyeless are not worthy of the knowledge you carry."

A heavy silence descended upon the room. Billie watched the girl crumble, her head falling as tears trailed down her cheeks. She felt her heart twinge with pity.

"Holy shit Owen," Greta said softly, horrified.

The Outsider simply walked back to where he was floating before and leapt back into his invisible chair, looking supremely unconcerned.

"I can't go back without those books," the girl whispered brokenly. Greta knelt down and untied her hands, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Then don't go back," she said gently. "We can make arrangements for you to stay at the Chapel for a few days while you find a job."

The girl turned to her, an awestruck look on her face. "You would do that, even though I broke in?"

"Well, we are the only two who know," Sister Mary added kindly. "The only thing is you will have to be interviewed about your past."

The crushed look that came across the girl's face spurred Billie to action. Fuck, when did her heart get so soft?

"I can take her on," she said.

The three turned to her, the girl shocked, Greta mildly surprised and Sister Mary…knowing.

"I need another assistant, someone who knows the streets and can work with gangs. You look like you have both experience and potential," Billie explained, making her voice gruff.

The girl's face lit up, and she tried to get to her feet. Failing, she simply stood tall and folded her hands together. "Thank you, thank you Spymaster Lurk! I will not let you down."

Billie sighed through her nose, trying to hide the smile on her face. She was forcibly reminded of when Daud took her in. "Do tell me you name, please."

"I'm Juniper Daniels, but you can call me Juny! I am 19 years old-"

"And she cannot read, so no paperwork for her," the Outsider added somewhat coldly.

Billie stood and put her hands on her hips before glaring at him.

"Why don't you take your meanness elsewhere until you learn to act like an adult?"

He huffed at her before disappearing with his book and jar. Billie turned back to the two sisters and Juniper.

"I am sorry about that, I have no idea why he is being such a brat," she apologized.

Greta shrugged. "Perhaps he doesn't like being replaced?"

"He is putting blame for what happened to him on the shoulders of someone blameless for it," Sister Mary declared serenely. "Don't worry Juniper, he will come around."

Juniper finally stood up, having untied her bonds. "Y'all are really just talking about the Outsider like he is just some person," she said, mystified.

Sister Mary and Greta looked at each other and also shared glances with Billie.

"Well, he is," Billie replied with a shrug. "Is he human? Well not exactly, but he is a person with emotions and desires. Just treat him politely and respectfully and he'll warm up to you."

Juniper rubbed her wrists, looking very nervous. "Do I have to talk to him again?"

Greta laughed. "Nope, from what Emily tells me, he's rarely down here anyway."

Billie walked to Juniper, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It will be alright. Now let's get you settled."

* * *

Emily traced the bubbles in the bath water, half listening to the Outsider sing some strange song as he ran his fingers through her hair. He was such a lovely bath companion, it was a shame he so rarely joined her. She closed her eyes as he rubbed the soap and rose oil into her scalp, restraining herself from falling back into his chest.

"What are you singing?" she asked lazily.

"A good luck charm," he replied after a moment, the song finished. "It will last for as long as you do not cut your hair."

She hummed, pleased. "Then it shall last for a long time."

The water sloshed as he shifted, and Emily could feel it being poured over her scalp, rinsing the soap and oil out.

"There are old folk traditions in the west of Gristol that declare that cutting a pregnant woman's hair will bring bad luck upon the woman as well as the person who cuts her hair," the Outsider recited evenly as he combed her hair with his fingers. "It was likely started because of the many charms and spells that called for the hair of pregnant women."

"So my hair is powerful?" she asked with a chuckle.

He laughed. "Empress, thy crown is ebony." His words were reverent, even though they were colored with humor.

Quiet fell between them, but she sensed that the Outsider had something to say.

"I learned two interesting things today," he began lightly. "The first, that you can pay THE BUGLE to write up any story you so choose, and the second that they are deliberately mistaking Arabel DeLuc for you."

"Oh?" Emily hummed, curious. "Why is that?"

"Somebody wants people to think you have started an affair with Wyman Fitzpatrick."

She spun around to face him, shock bleeding into her bones. The Outsider looked truly surprised at her reaction, his hand frozen in the air holding a bar of soap.

"You do not believe that article do you?" Emily could not stop the question from being uttered; it was as if it needed to be asked. Her heart was racing. How dare someone write such a sordid thing!

"Of course not!" he put down the soap, expression worried. "You would never dishonor yourself in such a way, not to mention if you were displeased with me we would discuss it. Anyone with half a brain cell would know that such an article was nothing but slander."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I think you put too much faith in most people. I doubt readers of such a rag even have an idea of who Arabel DeLuc is."

The Outsider shrugged. "If it helps I could ask them to write an article about DeLuc? I know some of the fashion plates are enamored with her, it should not be too hard to convince them with words and a couple coins."

Emily leaned forward and gently kissed him. He returned it sweetly, bringing his hands up to cradle her face. She was tempted to deepen the kiss- oh so tempted!- but she had to reply to his offer first. So she broke it.

"It is not so important to necessitate that," Emily murmured. "Let us pay no mind to it for now."

His hands threaded into her hair, and a pleased glimmer came into his black eyes. "As you wish, my Empress."


	42. Chapter 41: Tea

**Chapter 41: Tea**

Billie stared dumbly at the card Juniper had just handed her. It was an invitation to tea that afternoon, the 26th day of the month of High Cold, from Merida Fitzpatrick. She wondered if the card had been lost in the mail as an invitation for an event on the day of was short notice for a busy person like herself. Or perhaps it was deliberately sent late, so the sender could claim she did invite Billie. If it was the former instance Billie would prefer to decline. She had better things to do than play politeness with spoilt aristocrats. But if it was the latter…

"Juniper, do I have anything happening between three and five today?"

The teen had quite the memory, which made up for her illiteracy in spades. She also kept track of her events using a system of a grid and dots. Juniper peered at today's grid before looking up at her with a large smile.

"No ma'am that is absolutely clear!"

Billie nodded slightly. "Good. Make sure to mark it off, I have been invited to tea."

* * *

The Outsider felt a little odd walking into the Boiling Mermaid in the early afternoon. It was around lunchtime, so it was perfectly normal to be at such an establishment at this hour. But seeing the pub in the sunlight was strange to him. Tucked in a bright corner near the bar sat Roger and Louie the bargeman, their heads put together over a notebook. As he approached the two their mutterings became audible. Something about "motives" and "romance".

"What are you reading?" he asked, coming to a stop by their table.

The two looked up and a large smile crossed Roger's face. "Owen, it's good to see you! Has Emily kept you 'busy'?" he wiggled his eyebrows at the last word.

The Outsider rolled his eyes at the question before turning to Louie. "How have you been, it has been a long time since we last saw each other."

"I've been well thank you!" the man replied cheerfully. "Have a seat. Roger told me who your gal was, which certainly explained why you weren't around often."

The Outsider let out a nervous chuckle as he sat. "I'm sorry about not being forthright with the four of you when first coming to you all for advice."

Louie waved him off, eyes twinkling. "It could only be expected, my friend! After all, it was not as if we were the closest of chums, not to mention how unbelievable it is that someone of our social class could be the Empress' lover."

"Love knows no boundaries," the Outsider said dryly.

Roger gasped. "I love it!" and then he began to scribble out the phrase on the notebook.

"What are you doing?" the Outsider really wanted his opening question to be answered.

"Writing a play with music, song, and dance!" Roger replied, his eyes gleaming. "It is a romance for the ages!"

"It is so he can win over actress Angeline Blomgren," Louie answered the unspoken question with great fondness. "Todd is helping him with the musical part, while I am one of the mere helpers where he bounces ideas off of."

"Writing a play to win over an actress," the Outsider raised his eyebrows. "That is novel. What is the play about?"

Roger practically leapt out of his chair in eagerness. "It is about darkness and light! Love and selfishness! Freedom and imprisonment! Betrayal and loyalty-"

Louie put a hand on the slight man's shoulder. "I think he meant what is the plot, Roger."

The youth settled down a bit, but he practically radiated proud energy. "Oh yes, the plot! Well, the plot is…" his face fell and he trailed off. His eyes were focused behind the Outsider, and he looked somewhat frightened.

"What's wrong?" Louie asked gently, his eyes following Roger's. "It is only the Oracular Order."

The Outsider turned around, curious. To his surprise he saw Greta, Bernice, Sister Mary, Sister Reilly, and Marzia, all chatting as they walked towards the back, opening a door to a private room. Scanning the place he could see Eileen and Hope ordering at the bar.

"What is the Oracular Order doing here?" he murmured.

"My thoughts exactly!" Roger's voice came out as a squeak. "You don't think they are looking to raid the place?"

The Outsider turned back in his seat with a sigh. "I doubt it. There is nothing illicit about the Boiled Mermaid and pretty much anyone on the guest list is welcome within its walls. It might be odd to find them here but it is not nefarious."

Just as the words came out of his mouth did he feel a presence just behind him. Before he could turn around a hand slammed down on the table to his right. Roger yelped and Louie jumped, startled.

"Owen! Buddy, pal, we were just thinking about you!" Hope leaned down to look him in the eye, a smirk decorating her face.

"Were you?" he asked dryly.

"Oh yes!" It was Eileen, standing off to his left. "We were wondering if you could join us for lunch."

The Outsider sighed and stared into the middle distance. "I take it that I should not say no."

"More like you cannot say no," Hope said lightly.

He rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. What on earth could they want? It did not look like Greta was in on it; otherwise, she would be here threatening him too. He shoved his hands into his pockets as Eileen and Hope escorted him to the back room, feeling the scraps of herbs and a few beat up coins that lived in there. Perhaps he should properly enchant the pockets for spell ingredients.

The back room consisted of a good-sized table laden with food, a fireplace, and a set of couches and armchairs. The Sisters were gathered around the table, serving themselves from the plates and pots of food. Greta was halfway through buttering her croissant when she caught his eyes. Her already pale face blanched.

"Oh no no no no, guys! You promised!" her eyes darted around the table.

"Greta, this is too important to keep to ourselves," Bernice replied evenly.

The Outsider took the empty seat at the head of the table, with Sister Reilly to his left and Sister Mary to his right. His stomach growled, tempted by the steak pie in front of him. But once again, it did not feel safe to eat in front of this crowd. Marzia, in particular, was glaring furiously at him over her portion of fried fish and potatoes. So he turned his attention to the unasked question.

"Is this about Juniper Daniels and the Eyeless?"

All eyes at the table turned to him, Greta deeply apologetic, Marzia blazing with fury, Sister Mary placid, and the rest confused.

"What are you-" Eileen's question was cut off by Marzia slamming her hands into the table, rattling the dishes.

"This is about your rash, thoughtless actions!" she accused, her high voice much like the roar of a mouse.

The Outsider combed his mind. What had he done recently that was rash and thoughtless? The only thing he could think of was permitting King Seamus' murder and licking the poison that killed him. But what did that have to do with the Sisters?

"Sit down Marzia," Sister Reilly's hard tone cut through his thoughts. "I told you not to be so harsh."

"But Sister," Marzia protested. "It is a matter of life and death!"

"Such is the way the business is," Sister Reilly's tone booked no argument. "Now pass over the rolls, our guest is hungry."

With a pout and a huff, the girl sat down and as violently and politely as she could passed the rolls over to Sister Reilly, who passed them over to him. Feeling off balance and hungry, he took one.

"Outsider," Sister Mary started with a kind look on her face. "While some of us are not displaying the correct emotion-" she gave Marzia a scolding look. "We are all coming from a place of concern."

He cautiously tore the roll in half. "But what are you so concerned about?"

The older Sister hesitated, looking over to Greta who was sinking into her chair. Bernice heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes.

"All of you are pussies. Look, we were seeing if Greta could be clairvoyant like the rest of us by using this type of mushroom. Well, Greta did not become clairvoyant; instead, she became super chatty and told us you knocked up Emily. That is what Marzia is pissed off about and the rest of us are concerned about."

Suddenly the Outsider did not feel so hungry anymore.

"To be honest," Bernice continued. "I don't think there is too much to be worried about, like Emily is a tough cookie and you know all the magic. You're functionally immortal, Emily has your Mark and hasn't suffered for it, your kid is gonna be as healthy as a whale."

"How are you not worried?" Hope said, baffled. "Just because the Outsider is immortal does not mean his offspring are going to be healthy. A healthy horse and a healthy donkey can make a mule, and those things can have _issues_."

Eileen coughed. "That is a fair point Hope but also plenty of mules turn out fine. Infertile, but fine. I'm more concerned about Emily's desire to keep this quiet. Greta said not even her doctors know, why is that?"

"Emily does not like doctors," he was aware his voice was faint, but he felt like he had fallen into a hole.

Several sisters nodded. "And have you been looking after her?" Sister Reilly asked kindly.

"How can _he_ look after her?!" Marzia exploded. "His domain is over death, the end of life! What does he know of the health of women? I swear he is going to kill Emily!"

The roll in his hands was nothing but crumbs now. The hole felt deeper, darker. The walls were lined with all the spells he recalled. Spells to prevent miscarriage, spells to ensure the health of the mother, spells to ensure the health of the baby, spells to keep miscarriage from killing the mother, and spells to keep a baby from premature birth. The spells for childbirth… gods, there were far, far too many. He had forgotten how risky the whole matter of procreation was. He wanted to forget it. Yet, here were all these spells, all these recipes for amulets, for bonecharms; each one a clear reminder of how frightening pregnancy was, how deadly.

"Look Marzia, the Outsider is the only one Emily will trust at this moment to see to her health," Greta's voice slowly made its way through the haze, not quite dispelling it. "He is not incompetent with magic as you seem to believe. All he needs is guidance, and you and Sister Reilly can give him that."

Marzia made a noise of disgust. "Guidance. If he were but a mind perhaps it would mean something. But as was mentioned before, he is not human. He can eat poison, get shot in places that would kill a normal human. He reeks of the Void. His mind may not be poison but his body just reeks of it."

Part of the Outsider was offended. Offended that part of him would be so awful that it was poison. But the rest of him? The rest of him agreed with Marzia. The hole deepened.

"Alright, that is ridiculous," Hope declared. "If he was physically dangerous Emily would have figured it out a loooong time ago."

A sigh came from Sister Mary, long and sad. "I do not think that Hope or Marzia is wrong. Emily does bare the Mark of the Outsider and has shown herself to be sane and healthy. I do not think it is his physical presence that is an issue, but rather when it becomes involved in creation. It is not unusual to find curses where the baby becomes a vicious parasite and sucks the life out of their mother. There are at least three old diaries and five mentions of similar things happening to Marked or Void-saturated witches siring children."

"You're lying," the words came out of his mouth like a hiss. Sister Mary looked at him in shock.

"I assure you I am not," she was utterly taken aback, her voice concerned. "How do you not know this?"

"Because it is lies," he combed his mind desperately. "Propaganda made up by your Abbey."

Sister Mary reached down and pulled up a bag. She flipped open the top and pulled out book after book. Finally, she pushed the stack over to him.

"Have a look, I bookmarked the pages."

The Outsider took the first book and flipped it open. As soon as he saw the name his stomach dropped. He remembered Alexi Tanalski, Marked back in 1630. He remembered hearing strange, desperate prayers from him. But during that time there was a coup occurring among the Aghwrbiys of Northern Pandyssia. So he paid no heed. In the next book there was another familiar name- Horas McAllister, Marked in 1478. He remembered the man screaming at him for abandoning him when he piqued his interest again in 1483. Such a complaint was all too common, so he brushed it off. He felt his stomach sink even further. The last one was the diaries of a witch, written in 1700. She wrote out her desperate prayers to him, lamenting how she was ignored time and time again. She wrote in detail about how she suffered and grew sicker by the day. The Outsider closed the diary, unable to read anymore.

This could not happen to Emily, it was impossible. He could not let it happen. He had to talk to the Void, now.

"OUTSIDER!" The yell snapped him out of his thoughts. Everyone, even Marzia, was staring at him with concern. Sister Reilly reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It is going to be alright," her pale eyes were gentle, and a sympathetic smile crossed her face. "Just take a breath."

He inhaled shakily, his throat and chest tight. As he did that, he realized he had been crying. Gods, he was such a fool.

"Now that you are aware of the problems it can be fixed," Sister Reilly continued gently. "You are not the only man who knows nothing of how dangerous pregnancy is. The difference is that you want to help, you want to learn."

"What if I cannot fix it?" he whispered, his head in his hands.

"Don't be so defeatist!" Greta cried. "You are one of the most powerful beings in existence. Just combine your brainpower with ours and we can find a solution."

"You cannot oppose the Void," his voice was hoarse, tears kept falling.

"Bullshit," declared Bernice. "Stop being the Void's bitch and make the Void your bitch."

That pulled a laugh from the Outsider. Gods, he had to pull himself together. His life was finally beginning to look up; how pathetic would he be if he did not fight to keep it that way. He took another deep breath, this one far less shaky, and wiped the tears from his eyes. He would end the world before letting any harm come to Emily. He would rip the Void apart before letting any harm come to his child.

"You do not have to decide on a plan yet," Sister Mary soothed. "You have time. We will be here if you have questions or need help. And please, tell Emily that she should seek us out."

He nodded, not feeling able to speak. Hope leaned over and pushed the steak pie towards him.

"Take it, go see your whales, scream at the Void later," her tone booked no argument. "Take care of yourself so you don't fall apart trying to take care of Emily."

The Outsider nodded again, wordlessly taking the plate and getting to his feet.

"Update us if anything goes wrong, alright?" Marzia commanded.

A small smile made its way onto his face. "Alright."

* * *

Billie was not expecting to find Emily and Corvo on the Fitzpatrick's doorstep. And from their expressions, they were not expecting her either.

"Lurk, were you invited to tea?" Corvo asked.

"Indeed I was," Billie flashed the invitation. "I received it this morning."

Emily raised her eyebrows and hummed, shooting a look at Corvo. He returned the look before turning to Billie.

"Since you are here, would you mind taking over Royal Protector duties for the duration of the tea?" there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, like she would be saving him from torture.

"Er, sure?"

"Excellent," a smile crossed his face. "I will see you both then at five."

Billie watched him practically run away from the door, disappearing down an ally. "He must really not like the Fitzpatricks."

Emily sighed. "More that he wishes to avoid the drama this tea is bound to have. Merida deliberately sent your invitation late, Lydia knows I am pregnant, Arabel DeLuc is pretending to be me having an affair with Wyman, and they have an accused witch as a guest."

"What," Billie was dumbstruck and a touch angry.

"I know," Emily raised her eyebrows and knocked on the door. "It is going to be… an experience."

Moments later a butler opened the door and swiftly ushered them to the parlor. It was tastefully furnished with a mix of flowers, ceramics, and taxidermied animals. Three women were sitting around the coffee table- the black-haired Arabel lounging on the couch beside Merida in elegant linens. A strange pale woman dressed in robes of brown and crème, her hair covered in a veil, sat stiffly on the edge of an overstuffed chair, delicately sipping from the teacup. Merida caught Emily's eye and stood up with a large smile on her face.

"Empress, so glad you could come!" Billie looked for practiced politeness in her tone but it sounded genuine. The woman finally noticed her and her smile stiffened. "And you, Spymaster Lurk, so glad you could make it!"

Billie plastered a smile on her face. "Of course, I would not miss it for anything." In the corner of her eye, she could see Emily stifle a laugh.

Merida's expression became even more strained, but politeness that must have been drilled into her from birth took over. "Please, have a seat!"

The two of them sat on the other, empty, couch and a maid came forward and served them two delicate cups of tea.

"Empress, Spymaster, may I introduce you to Jane Willoughby?" Merida nodded at the oddly robed woman. "She is quite the expert on animals. Jane, this is Empress Emily Kaldwin and her spymaster, Billie Lurk."

Nods and polite words were exchanged. Jane had large, hauntingly blue eyes and a long scar across her face. Her hands were also heavily scarred and abnormally bony. It was hard to tell her age just by looking at her. Billie made a mental note to have Juny and the Outsider research this 'Jane Willoughby'.

Emily looked around the room, cup in hand. "Say, where is Lydia?" she asked lightly while placing a dash of cream into her cup.

Arabel rolled her eyes, the same strange shade of icy blue that High Overseer Chopin boasted. "That girl! She is out shopping with all her silly little friends, 'preparing for the baby'. I swear she is going to come back with nothing useful."

"There is no need to be so disparaging Miss DeLuc," the strange woman's low, soft voice chided her. "Lydia is a young girl with little experience of the world. What she needs is guidance, not judgment."

"She has a kind heart," Emily added. "Perhaps she is foolish but her intentions are good. She would never knowingly hurt anybody." Her last sentence was emphasized with a sly but pointed look at Arabel.

"Oh? But did her relationship with Wyman not start while you two were still together?" Arabel asked innocently. Billie took a sip of her unsweetened tea, wondering how long it would take to go from passive-aggression to direct attacks.

Emily waved her off. "Then she took him off my hands. For what I can see, I have fully upgraded."

A small, but genuine smile crossed Merida's face. "I am glad you are happy with Owen, especially after my dear sibling did you wrong."

"Yes, but how can a street rat be a full upgrade?" Arabel posed the cutting question like it was some philosophical query.

Billie looked over at Emily. Her grasp on the teacup tightened, but her face remained calm.

"Well," a sly smile took over her face. "For one thing, the sex is far better, mostly because he takes the time to listen to me."

Billie nearly inhaled her cup of tea. By the Void, it was awkward to hear that. At least the black-eyed bastard was doing good by his lady.

Arabel rolled her eyes. "Sure, you have a better lover. But that is all he could be."

"Whatever do you mean?" Emily set down her teacup, all wide-eyed innocence.

"Some nonsense about him having too poor of breeding to make a suitable consort and father of your children," Jane interjected lightly, punctuating that remark with a sip of tea. "I have not observed you two together, so I cannot make a comment on your compatibility as a couple. But from what I have read about the two of you," she took another sip of tea. "One would be a fool to not encourage you both to procreate."

Something about the way Jane said it sent a chill up her spine. Merida looked rather uncomfortable too. She exchanged a glance with the blushing Emily, who tried to swallow her embarrassment with her tea. Arabel made a noise of annoyed skepticism.

"You would encourage such a base union?" the woman shifted in her seat to gesture with her hand.

"Procreation in of itself is base," Jane retorted evenly, setting down her empty cup. "Your objections were to the breeding of Owen Pharmakós. While I do not know his pedigree, I know of his abilities, his qualities. And they are all qualities that would complement those expressed by our dear Empress here."

An uneasy laugh came from Merida. "You speak almost as if you were breeding animals!"

Jane slowly turned her head to face Merida, icy eyes wide. "What are humans but yet another species of animal?"

Emily hummed and leaned back into her chair. "That is a good point. What does separate us from the beasts?"

Emily's calm interjection broke the strange tension rising in the room. Billie let go a small sigh of relief, and her admiration for the Empress grew. How many people would be able to diffuse a situation like this?

"Very little, in my opinion," Jane smiled as she helped herself from the kettle. "Perhaps the human mind is what sets us apart. What do you think Spymaster?"

Billie was jolted by the sudden inclusion into the conversation. "What do I think? Well, I have not observed enough animals to accurately judge how similar we are to them. What I do know is I have seen an incredible capacity for cruelty and kindness in humanity."

Arabel looked ready to comment when the parlor door was flung open and Lydia practically tumbled in, holding a newspaper. Merida stared at her sister-in-law with wide-eyed concern.

"Lydia dear is something the matter?"

Short of breath, she failed to reply verbally, instead flipping over the newspaper. It was the _Dunwall Courier_ , as reputable as a newspaper could ever dream of being. And its headline screamed: **SUCCESSION CRISIS IN MORLEY?**

Merida's eyes bugged out. "Is Dáire dead?!"

Arabel put a soothing hand on her leg. "Be at ease. If Dáire is dead then Fintan would be King, and if he is gone too then there is still Kevin."

"But what if they are all dead?" Merida's voice rose into a panicked pitch. "I told you, those assassins have something against our family!"

Emily slid over to be closer to Billie and patted the now empty space off to her left. "Come sit Lydia, I am sure there is a reasonable explanation to the headline."

A large smile crossed the blonde's face and she happily took the offered seat. "Oh it is nothing so bad; I simply had to return here posthaste after reading the article with dear Lilly at Federico's."

Arabel's face clearly revealed that she was surprised that Lydia could read. Merida looked at her sister-in-law with indigence.

"If it is not so bad then why did you make us worry so?"

"You were the only one in a panic, my dear," Jane calmly retorted. "Tea, Mrs. Fitzpatrick?"

"Oh no thank you!" Lydia turned down the offer with a charming wave. "I should not be taking in so many liquids!"

While Lydia was distracted Emily took the newspaper off her lap and began reading it, holding the article so Billie could read it too.

"So what your lover said was true," Billie murmured, her eyes scanning the text.

"Not quite," Emily said with a frown. "It looks like who is eligible for choice is not determined by the male line alone."

"Empress, what does it say?" Merida was at the edge of her seat, holding the languid Arabel's hand tightly.

Emily handed the paper over. "The writer will put it to words better than I."

The red-head snatched the paper, her dark grey eyes flickering back and forth across the paper.

"You and Wyman are eligible to be rulers of Morley," Lydia declared happily, looking enormously pleased. "That was why I ran back here, to share the good news."

Arabel shot up, her jaw dropping in shock. She tore her eyes away from Lydia after a long moment to peer closely at the newspaper. Jane also put down her cup, her mouth parted slightly in surprise.

"I do not understand," she tilted her head like a puzzled hound. "The king is succeeded by his son. The Fitzpatricks are his sister's children. Why are they eligible?"

"I do not know," Billie replied quietly. "I was certainly told that only family members of the paternal line were eligible choices."

Arabel's sharp eyes landed on her. "You were told? By whom?"

Billie returned the gaze, keeping her face still like stone. "Does it matter?"

There was a beat of silence. A cold, cold flame of anger flickered in Arabel's eyes before adverting them, defeated.

"She is my spymaster," Emily proclaimed evenly. "If Billie did not know of this she would be a poor spymaster indeed."

Billie had to hide a wry smile behind her teacup. Without the Outsider she would have been just as surprised as the rest of the room; none of her informants knew about this change of succession. Perhaps she should find a way to change that.

Merida was rubbing her temples. "I… I do not want to rule Morley. Emily, can I bow out?"

Emily blinked. "I am afraid you will have to direct your question and request elsewhere. I am not in charge of the final decisions, but I believe I can favor certain candidates."

"Excellent!" the young woman perked up, clapping her hands. "If I am forced to put forth my candidacy, tell everyone I am terrible and unfit for rule."

"Only if she promises to do the same for Wyman," Jane added, a sharp look in her wide eyes.

Lydia, Merida, and Arabel made noises of outrage. Lydia leaned across Emily to shout angrily at Jane, the brunt ending up in Billie's poor ears.

"How dare you, my Wyman would make a fantastic king! What would make you say such a horrible thing?!"

Jane hummed as she savored her sip of tea. "He does not pay mind to his estates. You know Ballyrood? Three pregnant tenants have been hunted by a beast, another five have been injured, and the agent has yet to procure the thing that can kill it because Wyman has not given him permission yet. I have seen Void-touched folk care for the animals and children better than your husband has cared for Ballyrood."

"The Áneukhrmato is at Ballyrood?" worry filled Emily's tone. "If nothing is being done I can send Owen there. He would be glad to set things to rights."

Jane snapped her fingers and pointed at Emily. "That. That is what a leader would say. A leader cares about the people they serve, not just themselves. At least, that is what they are supposed to do. Alas, many fall short."

"Wyman cares about others!" Lydia cried. "He cares about me!"

There was a beat of silence, and then Jane and Arabel began to laugh at exactly the same time. It was a little eerie, seeing the two cackle as if some great joke had been made. And perhaps one had, but it was on poor, poor Lydia. Billie felt her heart twinge as the sweet bubbly young woman just wilted, looking like she had been slapped. Merida was dumbstruck, her mouth gaping open.

"Both of you stop it!" Emily snapped, putting her arm around Lydia as her dark blue eyes welled up with tears. "You are being needlessly cruel!"

"We are?!" Arabel laughed. "Oh blame fate for this situation, blame chance!"

"We can blame the bloody Outsider if we wanted too," Billie said, leaning on her knees. "That does not change the fact you are choosing cruelty above kindness. You think Lydia has been dealt a bad hand, why are you making it worse?"

Lydia was now sobbing, Emily trying her best to soothe her with meaningless words. Jane was sipping her tea again, but now wearing a most unpleasant smirk. Arabel settled into an equally unpleasant smug smile.

"What the void is _wrong_ with you two?!" Merida roared, getting onto her feet. "I will not stand by as you insult my sister, yes, _my_ _ **sister**_!"

The expression immediately melted off Arabel's face. "Merida…"

Her temper apparently as fiery as her hair, she rounded on Arabel and jabbed a finger into her chest. "You have been so catty to Lydia, for what? Lydia has been nothing but kind to you, and you spit poison in her face. If you do not meaningfully apologize to Lydia by dinner tonight, I want you out of this house. Got it?"

Arabel's mouth moved up and down, no words coming out. Finally, a stuttered "Got it."

"Now leave," Merida coldly declared.

Pale and shamefaced, Arabel gathered herself and scurried out of the parlor. Now, Merida drew herself to her full height and slowly turned to face a now solemn Jane.

"You are no longer welcome here. I suggest you leave before I make you leave."

The woman put down her teacup and stood, placid as a windless sea. "Thank you for inviting me. I was honestly a pleasure to be here, and I am sorry for causing your good sister pain. It was a pain she would feel soon enough, but I fear I worsened the blow. Thank you again, and I wish you all good health."

She nodded at Billie and curtsied for Emily before regally walking out of the door, head held high.

Merida immediately darted around the coffee table and kneeled before Lydia, offering out her hands. Lydia took them, forcing a wobbly smile to her face.

"Thank you," she whispered, fat tears falling from her face. "I am sorry for ruining the tea."

"Bah, it was already very strained," Merida proclaimed lightly. "What is important is that you do not feel I would not defend you to those who attack you."

She turned her head to look Billie. "Thank you truly for standing up for Lydia."

Billie shrugged. "Arabel and Jane were being needlessly cruel. Why not challenge them?"

A small smile crossed Merida's face. "Even so, I did not expect that of you."

"Billie is a good person at heart with a spine of steel," Emily interjected quietly. "You can trust her to defend the defenseless."

The praise brought a blush to Billie's face. Emily was really too kind to her. The depths of her forgiveness for her past misdeeds surprised Billie. She would be forever in debt for Emily's kindness, a debt she would gladly work the rest of her life to repay.

"Thank you for being so nice, both of you," Lydia wiped her eyes, her voice still watery. "You do not have to stay here on my account."

Emily glanced over at Billie. She clearly was not comfortable with staying, but did not want to hurt Lydia. Billie sighed quietly through her nose; time to dust off her limited acting skills.

"As much as we would love to stay if it would help you, I am afraid we will have to depart. We must discuss some matters of security with Corvo."

Lydia nodded and then gave Emily a hug. Emily returned it, and broke the embrace before too long.

"It will be alright Lydia," she murmured.

Billie got to her feet as Lydia nodded, and Emily soon joined her.

"Thank you for inviting us Merida," she said politely. "The tea was lovely."

"You both are welcome back at any time," Merida replied earnestly. "Lydia and I would certainly delight in having tea with you both again."

Lydia nodded in agreement. "May your journeys be safe!"

"And yours too," Billie returned.

They left as the clock chimed four. Had it really been that long? Billie shook her head as they left the house, walking into the breeze. She had no desire to attend a tea so drama-laden any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not interacting with y'all very much! I always value comments and its great to hear from y'all. I don't always know what to say when y'all are so nice, and I never want to be too defensive when I get some nice valid criticism. In any case, thank you for reading and supporting this work, and I'll try not to be so aloof in the future!


	43. Chapter 42: Dark Dreams

**Chapter 42: Dark Dreams**

Emily gave her head a shake as she removed the last of the pins keeping her bun in place. It felt so good to let her hair down at the end of the day. A couple of forgotten pins clattered against the floor. She winced, hoping some of the smaller ones did not get stuck between the floorboards. Extracting them was a pain.

"Dropped something, Empress?"

Emily turned around on her stool and smiled at the Outsider who held her dropped pins in his hand. He was still wearing his stained overcoat and looked vaguely windswept. Leaning over to drop the pins into their box, he gave her a kiss which she gladly returned. He tasted of seawater.

"Been visiting the whales?" Emily asked as he took a step back and shed his overcoat. The large heavy thing disappeared into whatever closet he kept it in.

A smile appeared on the Outsider's face. "What clued you in?"

"Oh just the fact that you taste like the sea," she picked up a hairbrush and held it out to him. He took it and Emily turned back around so he could brush her hair. The Outsider had such a knack with haircare, something that was especially odd for someone with short hair. Eventually she would ask just how he came across such abilities.

The Outsider hummed in response to her remark. "I did go swimming with them for a bit, just to see how they were faring. A new one joined the pod, another old female. I haven't figured out a name for her yet."

"Perhaps you can call her Grandmother," Emily suggested, relaxing. In the mirror she could see him intently tending to a snarl the end of her hair, his body twisted so he was floating off the ground, feet pointing at the ceiling.

"Yia yiá," he seemed to say the phrase absently, far too focused on not tugging on her hair to put much effort into the conversation. "That sounds like it would fit her perfectly."

A thought came to Emily, summoned by the strange phrase for Grandmother. "Will you be teaching our child your language?"

The Outsider's head shot up, making eye contact with her through the mirror. He looked rather stunned at the thought. "I can do that?"

"If you want to, then yes," Emily smiled at him. "I also would not be against learning if you wish to teach me."

"Hmmm, I'll have to figure out the best way to go about it," he returned his attention to her hair, comfortably hanging upside down. "I have never thought about how to teach someone anything, let alone a long-dead language."

"Truly?" Emily quirked her eyebrow in surprise. "I find it hard to believe you never thought of teaching people. What about your Marked?"

"If they learn something from me that was an accident," the Outsider replied. "I simply offer them information, my opinion, and perhaps a question or two. I was not there to educate but observe.

He was quiet for a moment, and then a rather giddy smile crossed his face.

"I hope I can be a good teacher. Gods! How fantastic would it be to share my language with someone again?"

"I suppose there are things that are easier to convey in your language," Emily remarked thoughtfully.

"Oh it is far easier to weave magic in my cradle tongue, though I'm unsure as to the reason for that," the Outsider replied, a frown hidden in his voice. "Perhaps it is because easier to pour my intentions into the words. I know the Void forced me to sit with philosophers to learn from their words about my words, but what I did learn if I did learn anything is just no longer in my mind."

Emily hummed, content to fall silent as he finished brushing her hair, and then deftly weaved it into a loose braid. A thought came to her rather suddenly.

"Do you know anything of Jane Willoughby? She was at the tea Merida hosted and seemed uncommonly interested in our relationship."

A sudden intense look crossed his face. "The witch-accused mother of that robed petitioner Monica, is she not? I had allowed them to escape my mind, not something that I should have allowed to happen."

That filled Emily with unease. "Are they dangerous?"

"I do not know," the Outsider dropped to the ground slowly, his face slowly losing emotion. "I cannot peer into their minds, their souls. I cannot look through Monica's inner void, and I cannot even find Willoughby's. That… that makes me uneasy." Emily twisted around to face him as he ran a hand through his hair. "I am going to see the Void about this, as well as some other things that have bothered me as of late. I don't want this escaping from me again. Don't wait up for me, this might take a while."

She nodded, trying to smother her frown. "I hope the Void cooperates."

He let out a wry chuckle. "As do I."

At that, his form vanished as like dust blown by the wind. Emily let out a sigh and got to her feet. Might as well finish her bedtime routine and hope that her sleep remained dreamless until the Outsider returned.

* * *

Sleep came slowly alongside the dying of the fire and a far too empty bed. Dark nothingness descended, and all was peaceful.

Then Emily heard the call of a whale.

Her eyes shot open, and she found herself standing inside an unfamiliar courtyard. The paving stones were a light yellow, and strange plants covered with spikes decorated the edges. At the center of it all was a fountain. She walked towards it, confused as to why it failed to make noise. Emily reached out to touch the arcs spouting out of the mouths of strange creatures and felt the cool wetness. But when she pulled her hand away there was nothing. What was going on?

Again she heard the call of a whale, so loud it vibrated in her bones. For some reason, Emily felt compelled to look up, and when she did it all fell into place.

"I am in the Void," Emily whispered to herself. How could this be? Was it not displaced by that explosion she and Greta created when getting rid of Delilah? She recalled the Outsider telling her about the strange burning barrier between himself and the Void, how he was unable to reach out to the Void unless it was before a shrine or other such places. Perhaps that had changed, perhaps it had not.

Above her was a great gray expanse littered with strange black rocks, buildings, boats, and lanterns issuing an eerie violet light. Lazily swimming alongside a strange boat adrift in the Void was a whale.

"Outsider?" she called, wondering if he pulled her into the Void.

There was nothing but silence and stillness. No, he did not pull her into the Void. He had no need or desire to do so. And even if he did, did he still have the ability? So why was she here?

The whale called again, a pleasant albeit bone-shaking sound. The beast seemed to be looking down at her quite expectantly. Perhaps it was going to take her to the Outsider? Emily flexed her left hand. It had been a long time since she used her powers, and if there was a place to use them it was here.

Reaching out, she pulled herself to the crumbling rooftop of the building around the courtyard, then to a large boulder floating just beyond. The whale swam to the black rock and presented its back. Emily breathed a sigh of relief. Her guess was right. Reaching out again, Emily landed on the whale's back. With a pleased-sounding grumble, the whale shot off into the Void.

Emily drank in the eerie sights around her, the buildings built in cliffs of black stone, warm yellow light issuing from their windows. Elegant buildings awash with blue light, people frozen in place as they went about their business. Boats of all kinds stranded in the air as every now and then a whale glided past. It was so cold, so lonely. Emily shuddered. It was truly a land of the dead. How did the Outsider stand existing in here for so long?

The whale finally came to a stop by a broken set of stairs, leading up into a strange building embedded in the rock. Emily patted the whale and murmured thanks before leaping onto the stairs. She almost experienced heart failure as she lost her balance, but luckily with a bit on undignified arm flailing and sitting down on the stairs, Emily did not fall off the edge. The whale lingered by, watching her with its big brown eye.

"Tell no one of that," she warned.

The whale huffed through its blowhole, seeming to understand.

Emily looked up the short flight of stairs. The doorway at the top was dark, and something about it made her skin crawl. Hopefully the Outsider was nearby; she needed an explanation for all of this.

Beyond the doorway was a neatly furnished parlor with two walls gaping open as if some giant beast had ripped them off. Beyond the missing walls was a flat cliff of black stone, and on that cliff stood the Outsider, talking to… himself?

" **Ah, she is finally here!"** the voice was a strange crooning hiss and immediately Emily found herself dropped into a chair and the fireplace in the corner ignited to a blue flame.

"Who is here?" that was the Outsider, his voice fainter and very much confused.

" **Why your hen!"** one of the Outsiders made a flourish towards her.

"… My hen?"

One of the Outsider dropped an arm over the other " **Oh how silly of me! I mean your cow**."

"My cow?!"

"It's not a cow?" the two were walking towards her, one looking far more eager than the other. One snapped his fingers. " **I've got it! Your bitch!** "

"What in the name of Concordia are you talking about?" the other declared. That one was surely her Outsider. But who was the other one?

" **Your human female of course!** " the strange one declared eagerly.

The two came to a halt as her Outsider shoved the other's arm off him. "You brought Emily here?" His voice was cold with fury.

" **Yes, your bitch**."

Immediately the other Outsider was slammed off the cliff by an oversized shadowy arm. The shadows dissipated, and her Outsider was running to her a fearful look on his face. Emily felt frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch him.

The Outsider came to stop before her, dropping to his knees and gently took her face into his hands. Emily let go of a breath she did not know she was holding and leaned into the touch, lifting up her hands to grasp his.

"Are you alright?" his dark eyes darted around, searching for an injury.

"I am fine," she assured him, reaching out to touch his face. "Who was that with you?"

" **Me bitch!** "

Emily barely processed the creature's presence before it was once again punted out of the parlor and off the cliff. The Outsider had taken his hands off her face and they were clenched into tight fists. His teeth were bared into a snarl and eyes narrowed as he glared at the place the creature had once stood.

"I hate that fucking thing!" he snarled.

" **I have a name!** " the crooning hiss shouted back. " **Unlike you!** "

The Outsider proceeded to make several strange, presumably rude gestures at the air. Moments later the creature reformed just in front of him, taking the form of the Outsider, but with pale grey human eyes.

" **I am understanding that 'bitch' is not the correct term for a human female, but there was no need for you to act so violently** ," the creature put a hand on his hip and gave the Outsider a disappointed look.

"You _must_ be joking," the Outsider shifted to stand between the strange inhuman creature and herself.

" **I fail to see how any of my behavior or language may be construed as a 'joke' as you call it** ," the creature sounded rather hurt and lost. " **If it was not the correct word for a human female you should have corrected me.** "

Emily watched the Outsider take a long breath, as tense as a coiled spring. "The correct word for a human female is 'woman'. 'Bitch' is an insult for women. You repeatedly insulted Emily."

" **I did?** " the creature sounded surprised. It then leaned around the Outsider to look at her, its strange pale eyes unsettling. " **I am sorry for that. I truly think well of you, particularly since you seem to be quite good for my representative's health**."

"Your representative?" Emily stuttered, feeling utterly lost.

A wide inhuman smile crossed the creature's face, the whites of its eyes fading to black. " **I am the Void as your dear Outsider sees it. And now you too have been blessed with the privilege.** "

"Cursed more like it," the Outsider hissed. "Why did you bring Emily here?"

" **I would have had no need to bring her here if you did not impregnate her** ," the Void drawled, dissolving and reforming into a bony old woman sitting on a chair across from them. " **God and human do not mix, at least not in a way that mother survives. And I would so hate for you to lose such a suitable consort**."

Fear pooled in Emily's gut. "What exactly do you mean?" the question came out weakly.

The Void waved its hand flippantly. " **Oh, nothing that cannot be fixed. Humans are remarkably adaptable and pliable. With your consent and my dear representative's consent, you should not have to worry about the supernatural side of things**."

"You did not answer her question," the Outsider's tone was cagey, and his face betrayed that he knew something about the danger she faced. Perhaps that might be one of the things that he initially went to see the Void about? Emily took in a shaky breath.

" **Must I?** " the Void whined. " **Explaining exactly why she is in danger is sooo long. Just let me make the fix and you can go back to your lives.** "

"Yes," Emily forced the word out, glaring at the creature. "I want to make an informed decision, not simply rely on your dubious word."

The Void gave her a long look before shifting his gaze towards the Outsider. " **I can see why you like her. Very well, I will explain.** "

It twisted its hand and the chair Emily was sitting in elongated into a couch. Just as soon as that space appeared the Outsider was forced to sit down, his expression very much that of a hound that ate a rosebush. The Void shifted appearance to that of a strangely dressed man complete with an odd mustache and a monocle.

" **10 billion years ago I was minding my own business, then next thing I know I'm holding a universe and untold power within me. This was exceedingly annoying, especially since the Stars who were supposed to know what was going on very much did not know what was going on. Long story short, I was now in charge of holding all the leftover energy that remained after all that creation shit went down. Fun fact about energy, it can neither be created nor destroyed, only transformed. And boy does it transform. It is very very very annoying.** "

The Outsider folded his arms. "Alright, but what does that have to do with anything?"

The Void paused, a flicker of something strange crossing its face. That flicker looked very much like it realized that it was saying things that it should not be saying. Then it let out a jarring seagull-like laugh.

" **Nothing, of course, forget I ever said it! Now, what was the topic again?** "

"Why I am in danger and what you are going to do to me in order to fix it," Emily answered, wondering if the Void was somewhat daft.

" **Oh yes, that!** " it lit up before retreating back into its own thoughts. " **Now how do I explain this?** "

"You are hiding something," the Outsider said shrewdly, his head tilted.

The Void froze then pointed a scolding finger at the Outsider. " **You, shush. I need to concentrate.** "

Emily shot a glance at the Outsider who was deep in thought, his brow furrowed. The Void was mumbling to itself for a bit, before finally, gleefully snapping its fingers.

" **I have it! So, humans can only stand sooo much exposure to the void, which is why witches tend to go cuckoo for cocoa puffs or get sick as a dog after eating all said cocoa puffs. That's why the Outsider and I tooled up the Mark, to make a safe way to channel the powers of the Void without overloading the person**." Emily opened her mouth but was cut off by a finger pointed in her direction. " **Now I know what you're going to say 'Void, why is it only now a problem, after all, I have been engaging in sexual intercourse with your representative and nothing bad happened.'.** " The Void mimicking her voice perfectly was very, very unsettling. " **Well, that is not the same as having to play host to an uncontrollable hunk of half void. Your human physiology cannot handle it nor keep up with its demands after the fourth month so you will essentially waste away and be cannibalized by your own offspring.** "

Emily found herself trembling at how casually the Void outlined her fate, an utterly terrifying fate. No, focus, it was offering to fix that. This was not what will be, this is only what could be. Besides, the Outsider would certainly not allow anything so terrible to happen to her.

"But you said you can fix that," there was a touch of desperation in the Outsider's voice. "How?"

The Void's face split apart in a wide smile. " **Why by altering human physiology to make it more durable to the negative influences of the void! Consider it to be a gift from me to you, woman!** "

"Emily," Emily corrected the Void faintly. "My name is Emily. And what do you mean by altering?"

The Void waved her off. " **Nothing so terrible that you will be unrecognizably human or lose your humanity. All you will get is the delightful side effects of accelerated healing rate, perpetual youth, enhanced sense of smell, predisposition to itching around men with blue hair, and being seen as more delicious to certain animals. Oh! And the possible ability to digest pure manganese.** "

Emily stared at the Void. On the positive side, all of what it described were things she could live with and even rejoice in. Accelerated healing rate and perpetual youth? Goodbye doctors! Enhanced sense of smell would have its ups and downs but it was nothing too severe. The final three things were simply baffling to her. Baffling, but livable. The offering was far more preferable to a slow and agonizing death.

"All that is needed is the accelerated healing rate and perpetual youth, and it can be delivered without all the extraneous nonsense," the Outsider glared at Void. "So why are you adding such things?"

A long silence stretched between them. The air felt thick as the Void's pale eyes widened then narrowed, its form shifting from a dapper aristocrat to a gaunt, decaying fang deer wreathed in dark smoke, teeth bared into a grim smile.

" **I am doing you a favor, representative. A self-serving favor on my part, but a favor nonetheless. So unless you want to reject my oh-so-generous offer and watch your consort die, take what I am offering. It is the best either of you will get.** "

Emily shivered at the cold tone and reached out to touch the Outsider, whose eyes were coldly fixed on the Void.

"Outsider, it really is not so bad," she whispered. "Let us just take the offer."

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he tore his eyes off the Void. "It is hiding something!" he hissed.

"Then find it out later when my life is not on the line!" Emily hissed back.

The Outsider looked like she had slapped him. Shame flooded his eyes, and he hung his head. "I'm sorry, I was not thinking correctly." After a moment he looked up at the Void, both submissive and determined. "What do we need to do?"

The Void stamped its hooves, flashing a ghoulish smile. " **I knew this woman helps you see straight! Now, as for what is needed, I need you both to hold still.** "

"Hold still?" the Outsider snarked. "What is holding still going to do?"

Emily, not appreciating the Outsider's attitude, opened her mouth to scold him. But before any words could come from her mouth her vision suddenly went white. Searing pain emanated from her bones like she had just walked through a Wall of Light. Her chest was tight, she could not breathe. As suddenly as it arrived, the pain disappeared. Emily inhaled deeply, choking on the sudden influx of air, tasting blood in her mouth. Beside her, she could hear the Outsider coughing too.

" **Eugh, I didn't think it would be so rough on you two. You look like a pair of Weepers,** " the blinding white finally faded, and Emily could see a very concerned shadow looking at her. She touched her cheek and found her fingers came away red. The Outsider continued to cough harshly, doubling over. The Void reached out and placed its hand on the Outsider's head. " **This should not have taken so much out of you… Oh, I know why…** "

The Void began to talk in a foreign language, its tone disappointed and a touch scolding. Emily wiped away the bloody tear tracks on her cheeks, feeling shaky. Was she alright? Was the baby alright? She looked over at the Outsider, who swiped the Void's hand off his head and glared furiously at it, blood flowing from his eyes and dribbling from the corners of his mouth.

"Do not lecture me!" he snapped. "Just tell me truly that Emily will be alright, that our child will be alright!"

" **Oh your woman and child will be fine!** " the Void cheerfully waved him off, before locking eyes with her. Emily shivered at its cold gaze. " **This little upgrade is not a free pass to neglect your health. You still can get ill, you still can get injured, and you still can die. Be a dear and don't give up the ghost, alright?** "

At that moment Emily felt small, very small. A flicker of fury sprung up in her chest, how dare this thing condescend to her? And yet, what could she do about it? The Void held her life in her hands and even chose to give it to her. She could ill afford to spit in its face, however much she wanted to at this moment.

" **I take your silence as a yes!** " the Void's chipper tone drew her out of her thoughts. " **Well then, I will see you in six months or so, unless you do something stupid to yourself. Ta ta.** "

Suddenly her vision turned to black. Panic filled her gut, and her eyes shot open. In the dim light and fading embers of the fireplace across, Emily could see she was back in her bedroom, sitting upright in the bed. She shuddered, it all felt like a bad dream.

"Emily, are you alright?"

It was the Outsider. He was cautiously approaching her, his bloodstained face bearing an expression of contrition and worry. She smiled at him.

"You look awful."

He winced and laughed. "You are looking a touch bloody as well, here."

The Outsider flicked his fingers, and a pair of steaming towel appeared. Emily happily plucked one out of the air and wiped her face. Immediately she felt better, even seeing the towel stained red. Her head tilted as she watched the Outsider make sure his face was clean of all the blood.

"Come, sit," Emily murmured, patting the mattress.

He flashed a thin smile at her, and after shedding his shoes joined her on the bed. Emily immediately collapsed onto his chest, finally feeling safe.

"The Void is a cunt," she groused.

A beat later the Outsider burst into laughter. Quickly remembering it was night he stifled his guffaws to giggles, still shaking mightily with mirth.

"What, it is!" she protested, not entirely sure what was so funny.

"I am sorry!" he continued to cackle. "I did not expect you to stay that!"

"That the Void is a cunt?"

The Outsider wheezed, trying not to double over with laughter, and something clicked in Emily's head.

"You think me cursing is funny," she gave him a glare.

He shrugged, clearly admitting that was the reason for his mirth. "There is just something so… delightful in seeing someone as well-mannered and beautiful as you call the Void a cunt. And do not worry, you are completely right, the Void is a complete and utter cunt."

Emily settled, frowning at the very thought of the Void. "While it pleases me that we are in accord, I am worried about what the Void could do to us."

The Outsider was silent for a long moment, the arm he had draped over her toying with the end of her braid. "I can promise you, so long as the Void favors me you will have nothing to fear from it."

"I could tell it saw me as a tool," Emily whispered. "Why? Why does it need me?"

The Outsider went still for a bit and sighed. "Probably because it can sense that I want to end my service. When you leave this life, I want to be able to go with you. I have already lived longer than any person should have."

Emily searched for his hand and grasped it tightly. "You want to become mortal?"

"What I want is to no longer be alone," he said quietly. "And I cannot see you choosing to become immortal alongside me."

Immortal alongside him. Emily had not even thought of this as an option. The Void could likely make it happen, even gladly make it happen. But, outliving everyone she knew, even her own child? It hurt to consider that.

"How will you become mortal?" she murmured.

"I do not know," his voice was brittle. "There might not even be a way."

"Are you certain?" after she said those words Emily felt terrible. Why on earth was she encouraging him to seek mortality, to seek death?

"I am not longer what I am supposed to be. What I was could be killed. What I am now, I do not think should even exist," his words were cryptic, and his tone was painful. Emily pulled up the hand in her grasp and kissed it.

"No matter what you are, I am so very glad you are here with me."

The Outsider shifted, and she could feel him kiss the top of her head. "Don't leave me too soon, alright?"

"It will take many, many years before you shake me off," she replied with a grin.


	44. Chapter 43: Doctor

**Chapter 43: Doctor**

Corvo sifted through the mail. Well, he was sifting through his mail. Dunwall Tower received a staggering amount of mail, some of it directed to the household staff, a significant portion addressed to Emily, and the largest bulk was for the Spymaster. Corvo did not miss managing the folks that had to determine between legitimate tip offs, insane conspiracy theories, and jokes. And Void knows that some crazy and stupid stuff still got through.

Luckily the position of Royal Protector was not one that saw a great deal of mail. He simply received letters regarding appointments for Emily, a couple memos from the Spymaster's office. But this one, this letter was not from any of the usual suspects. The envelope was a muted black, and sealed shut with an orange wax seal. On it were two crows holding crossed scythes above a chalice- the seal of the Voronin family. Corvo frowned, sliding the letter opener under the flap of the envelope. He was not the one who wrote to the Voronins, that dubious honor was given to Lurk. Why were they writing to him?

" _Dearest Protector Attano,_

_We have received a pleasant letter from Spymaster Lurk, and of course we have replied to her. However there is a matter that you must be addressed with as well. We do not foresee your attendance, so we ask to you take caution. My wife does not think your life is in danger however I think such a warning would be appreciated. While the Empress will certainly be safe in our company, I encourage you to choose a temporary Protector. May I recommend someone who is comfortable with magic? It would be an utter shame not to make your acquaintance, but I have a feeling we shall meet soon enough._

_My your health be strong and your wits stronger,_

_Stanislav Voronin"_

What on earth? Corvo blinked hard and read it again. 'We do not foresee your attendance…' yes, it seemed that Stanislav was warning him of something that would keep him bound to Dunwall. But what? Damned Voronins and their pretentious arcane obtuseness! Was it so hard to give a blunt accurate warning?

A knock on his door drew him from the letter.

"Come in."

Emily swung open the door, a small smile on her face. "Ready for training?"

Corvo raised an eyebrow at her. "Is it wise to continue?"

She immediately waved him off, very much unconcerned. "I will certainly have to put it on hold at some point, but right now? I should be fine."

That pulled a wry smile from him, and he tossed the letter onto the nearby table. "Alright, let's go."

* * *

"It is going to take six weeks for a fracture like this to heal."

Corvo stifled a groan at Dr. Bonnefoy's words, glaring up at the infirmary ceiling. Emily sat beside him, her face the picture of sheepish contrition. Really, it was not her fault, he was being careless.

 _"_ _Or perhaps age is getting to you"_ murmured a voice in his mind. Corvo squashed it with a vengeance.

"No putting weight on your left leg during that time," Dr. Bonnefoy continued. "Otherwise you will only prolong the healing process or possibly cripple yourself."

He nodded, willing to take her words to heart while also resenting how _inconvenient_ this was. There was no way he could perform his duties with a broken leg.

"Perhaps I can have you and Billie switch tasks?" Emily suggested. "After all she is a skilled fighter, and you have held her post before."

That was a good choice. It was certainly convenient that the Spymaster did not have to do any actual spying, and was mostly bound to a desk and coffeehouses, as he knew from experience. Not to mention that Lurk would be more than able to fulfill his duties. It was likely that she would accept the temporary switch in positions. But…

"But if Lurk says no," Corvo replied. "Who would you choose instead?"

"Owen."

The speed of her response caused Corvo to pull a face. The Outsider was not what he would consider a good Royal Protector. While he had improved in his combat skills, there was something ruthlessly violent in the way he fought. No discipline, and very little control. If Emily was threatened, there would be nothing left of anybody that opposed him.

"You do not approve," Emily said flatly.

"I do not trust him to be restrained if someone threatens you," Corvo replied, pulling himself up. "Especially when restraint is an important part of the job."

Emily laughed. "You surely cannot believe he would be that violent?"

He sighed. She must be blinded by love to say such a thing, yet Corvo could not fault her. "You saw what happened to the people on that boat, Emily. He is a dangerous person, and not one who is easy to keep in check. While I am confident that he would rather rip off his own toenails than harm you, I am not so certain he would show mercy to anyone who would do you any harm."

"What is so wrong with that?" Emily asked quietly.

Corvo winced. "Emily, by mercy I do not mean letting the assassin go. I mean not brutally killing the person."

Emily scoffed. "He would not do such a thing!"

And they were back to square one. For all her intelligence and growing wisdom his daughter could remain rather stubborn about some of her less reasonable opinions. He could argue until he is blue in the face about the Outsider's unsuitability but Emily's opinion would very likely not budge. Corvo leaned against the pillows, his head touching the pale wallpaper just above the metal bedframe. The only way he could see Emily changing her mind is him proving that the Outsider did not have the restraint needed. But how exactly to go about it without getting someone killed?

There was a noise just outside the infirmary door, catching everyone's attention. Then, the door swung open and Billie pushed in a poorly-bandaged and bloodied Outsider into the infirmary. Emily gasped.

"What happened?!" she cried, springing up and running over to the Outsider.

"I found this idiot trying to patch up his own injuries in the basement," Billie groused. "You can't fix a broken arm while your eye is missing."

"You did it before," the Outsider grumbled, a thin line of blood running from the mess of stained bandages that covered his right eye. Billie scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I have no clue what you are talking about. Dr. Bonnefoy?" her gaze shifted over to the good doctor, who was already yanking out several bandages and a couple splints. "I hope you do not mind seeing to him."

"Not at all," the woman replied cheerily. "It seems like today is a day for fractures, so you are in good company."

Billie seemed to finally notice him sitting up on the nearby bed as Bonnefoy ushered the Outsider over to the nearby examination table, a worried Emily following them.

"What happened to you?" she asked, taking Emily's now abandoned chair.

"A training accident," Corvo replied shortly. "I am going to need you to take my place."

"I can do that," Billie replied. "But I can't leave Dunwall. I have a couple court orders to stay in the city as I am a key witness against some embezzlers and those Threshers." She made a noise of disgust. "I have no idea why they are even going through the whole charade. We know they are guilty, just sentence the trio already."

"Justice must be maintained, even for the guilty," Corvo intoned, a frown growing on his face. Billie could not leave Dunwall and his ankle was broken, leaving Emily unprotected for her trip to Bastillian. Well, unprotected except for the Outsider. "Tell me Lurk, what do you think of the Outsider stepping into the role of Royal Protector?"

Billie's face contorted with thought, wincing oh so slightly. "Truly? I think he is prone to ruthlessness. You have to provoke him to actually get into a fight, but once in it… Not to mention that he will blatantly use magic if it means keeping Emily from harm, this is not what we really want to showcase as an ability of his."

Corvo nodded, crossing his arms with muted frustration. "He is not ideal but I do not want to assign anyone to Emily that does not know his true identity. We could ask Greta or her Sisters, but that would put the Voronins on their guard."

"Actually," she held up a finger, a thoughtful look blooming in her eyes. "I happen to have recently recruited an assistant who is one hundred percent aware of who Owen is and by good luck for me is a former member of the Eyeless gang who seems to idolize me a fair bit."

"So we can trust her to keep her mouth shut," he remarked with a frown. "But would she make a good bodyguard? Can I trust her to keep Emily safe?"

Billie fixed Corvo with a long look. "She's decent with a gun, but really what we need is someone who can keep the Outsider in check when he particularly doesn't feel like keeping himself in check. She'll happily do as I ask her but we don't need her to give her life for Emily."

He turned his gaze from the Spymaster over towards Dr. Bonnefoy, Emily, and the Outsider as he mulled over her words. Emily had given herself over to chatter, prattling on to distract the Outsider from Bonnefoy realigning his arm. It seemed to be working, as his one black eye was fixed on her, affection winning over pain.

"Do you think this person can do that?" Corvo asked softly.

"To be honest, no," replied Billie tartly. "But without her we are out of options."

And so they were. Corvo resisted a long sigh. Void knew that he was dreading meeting the Voronins anyway. At least Emily would not be facing them alone.

"So all that is left to do is inform the Cabinet?" he asked.

Billie nodded, her gaze shifting over to Dr. Bonnefoy, who was giving the Outsider quite the lecture on wound care. "That should be pretty easy. I don't foresee much protest, especially over a vacation. Though, I do wonder what Virtanen's take on the Voronins is."

* * *

"You are going to visit the Voronins?!"

The shrill horror in Olga Virtanen's voice pierced everyone's ears. A drowsy Harold Baldwin jumped at the interjection, startled. Eulalia, perched on the back of Emily's chair, made a loud beep of consternation, punctuating the din. Corvo himself was surprised at the vehemence in her voice.

"Dear Mrs. Virtanen!" cried Secretary Purcell in shock. "Surely there is no need for such a tone of voice."

She shook her elegantly coiffed head, eyes wide. "You do not understand. The Voronin family has long been spoken about in Tyvia- not because they are admirable but because they are cruel and powerful. When Karol Topek first moved to unify us, there was only one family that succeeded in opposing him, and that was the Voronins. They defended their endless fields with crows and the dead, burning town after town as they retreated to Pradym, the land forested with the corpses of friend and foe alike on tall spikes! The siege of Pradym was long and bitter, the people there still sing songs about it. It finally came to an end when Shura Voronin proposed a test of single combat between him and Karol. If he did not die, then Karol was to leave them alone, and let them join his kingdom on their terms. If he died, then the Voronins will unconditionally surrender. In the duel Karol cut off his head, but Shura laughed at him, and put it back on his neck! And so the Voronins and their lands were left alone and ruled alone until 1600 when they joined Tyvia in return for certain privileges only known to them and the King, now the High Judges."

The room was silent after the minister from Tyvia finished her history lesson. From what Corvo could see, skepticism was the prevailing emotion on the faces of the Cabinet. But the Outsider, who stood quietly in a shadowed corner, bore a fond smile on his face. That gave Corvo pause.

"Well that certainly is a fascinating story about a family I have heard nothing about," Marcell Blinker said with a tone of indulgent condescension. "A myth to scare the High Judges and remind the people that they are better off without the Princes."

"Now hang on," Giovanni García wiped his bald head. "You might not have heard about the Voronins but I have. I have even met them and attended one of their funerals! What Secretary Virtanen says has a grain of truth. They raise cattle on their land outside Bastillian and they drink their blood. When old Ruslan Voronin died they fed his body to their pet crows. When I asked the visiting Judge from Pradym about it she told me they had been doing that for hundreds of years! And as for special privileges, they might live in Serkonos, but they sure do not answer to Duke Abele. Whenever any of the Tyvian Judges visit, they go to Bastillian."

"So?" Silva drawled, looking deeply unimpressed. "We are talking about a Tyvian family that keeps to itself and has a scary reputation. If they want to meet the Empress and the Empress wants to meet them then I say have fun and report back. Besides, she is taking Mr. Pharmakós along. I am sure the Voronins would find a kinship in him."

A light flickered behind the eyes of half the table, and suddenly many, many eyes were pointed at the Outsider.

"You are a Voronin bastard, aren't you?" minister Cassidy asked, her keen eyes narrowed.

To his credit, the Outsider simply shrugged. "I could be, I might not be."

"So Empress, are you paying a visit to the Voronins to explore that possible connection?" there as a teasing smile on Admiral Haddock's face.

"Perhaps," Emily replied coyly. "Who knows what I will learn from the Voronins?"

Minister Virtanen shuddered. "Oh please do not go Empress! I understand there is a strange darkness around Mr. Pharmakós but just because he has been cursed so by the Void does not mean he is kin with those who worship it! I beg of you, stay away from the Voronins!"

Blinker rolled his eyes very hard. "You are letting your superstition rule you, Mrs. Virtanen! From what I can see, the Voronin are strange but harmless. Our Empress has defeated a witch, she has a man with all the strange powers of the Void at her side. What is the harm in a week-long visit?"

There was a clearing of the throat from Secretary Purcell "Now that we have settled that Empress will be out of town for a week, let us move to the next item on the list, which is the hunting of the Áneukhrmato. So far there has been great success in Tyvia and Serkonos with the distribution of the narwhal tusks and the killing of those beasts. I understand that Mr. Pharmakós here personally dispatched one out in Morley."

* * *

As the Cabinet members trickled out of the room Corvo saw Minister Cassidy take the Outsider aside and hand him a letter. As subtly as he could on his crutches Corvo sidled up near them, curious as to what is about.

"Are you kidding me Cassidy?" the Outsider snarled, the paper crumbling into dust in his hands.

"Don't shoot the messenger Pharmakós," Corvo could not help but admire the courage it took Cassidy to remain placid in front of the fuming Outsider. "I respect what you did for the people of Ballyrood and agree that Fitzpartick being callous. But it is his right to seek restitution for damaged property."

The Outsider gave a guttural sigh, twisting his head to glare down the empty hall. "So what is the best way for me to tell him that he should shove his foot up his clenched asshole?"

Corvo could not help a snicker from where he stood, which seemed to attract the attention of Harold Baldwin.

"What has coaxed mirth from you, Protector Attano?" he asked quietly but with curiosity. "Is it the conversation between Ms. Cassidy and Mr. Pharmakós?"

Corvo nodded shortly, not wanting to miss the next part of the conversation from the rather beleaguered looking Cassidy. The woman put a hand on her hip and sighed.

"Well, you have two options. Pay the bill, or take the matter to court."

The Outsider stared dumbly at her. "Pay him? I literally cannot do that."

"Then take him to court," Cassidy replied curtly.

The expression on the deity's face was rather priceless; Corvo did his best to not snicker at how dumbfoundedness and indigence made quite the comical expression. After a long beat the Outsider closed his mouth, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

"How the fuck am I supposed to win a godsdamn case against a rich boy like him?" he hissed, single dark eye boring a hole into the stern woman. "I can't pay this bill, how the fuck am I going to pay a lawyer?"

Cassidy's jaw fell open, clear shock crossing her face. "You mean to tell me you haven't a penny to your name?"

The Outsider made a clicking noise, and flashed his uninjured hand in the shape of a gun. "Hit the nail on the head dear Minister."

"Do you not do work for the Spymaster, does she not pay you?" Cassidy said, utterly aghast.

"Why?" he shrugged. "I live here rent free, I get to eat as much as I please and the work is a breeze."

The minister turned around, finally noticing Corvo and Baldwin listening in on them. Shocked, she pointed at the Outsider like he was a strange animal.

"Did you know that he was flat broke?" her voice squeaked.

Corvo nodded while Baldwin shook his head.

"And you did not think that was a problem?" somehow her voice got even higher.

"The kid eats literally anything, never asks for anything, freely assists the Spymaster and makes the Empress happy," Corvo replied with a shrug. "Him not having money never came to be an issue."

"Well, the Empress did ask him to exterminate the beast, so if we interpret this as a command, then it is the Crown who is responsible for footing the bill, not Mr. Pharmakós here," Baldwin interjected cheerfully. "Now let me see what Mr. Fitzpatrick was asking."

The Outsider twisted his fingers and the paper reappeared out of the particles of dust. With a flick of his wrist, he handed it over to Baldwin, who calmly put on his reading glasses.

"Hmmm, this well… By the Void is this man mad? 300,000 coins for a greenhouse? 2,000 coins for "emotional damages"?! I think not!"

"What on earth is going on here?" Emily finally appeared, and Eulalia landed on Corvo's shoulder. He reached up and absently gave the little bird a couple scritches.

"Extortion, pure and simple my dear empress!" cried Baldwin in a passion. "Wyman Fitzpatrick has authorized this utterly unreasonable bill regarding the recent damages the Ballyrood estate undertook during the Áneukhrmato hunt. I say to you the Crown shall not pay a single cent to this man!"

Emily opened her mouth in indignant surprise before the Outsider cut her off.

"The Crown won't pay a cent because this is not the Crown's bill to pay," his tone was frustrated and rather defeated. "I was not commanded to kill the Áneukhrmato, I was requested. I could have said no and the only punishment would be knowing that I could stop one more person from being killed and not preventing that death. As a result, this is my bill to pay, as extortionate and petty as it may be."

A sharp look entered Emily's eyes, and she turned her gaze to Baldwin.

"If you took this bill to court, what would be the best outcome?"

The man looked somewhat surprised to be even asked his opinion. "Well, the best outcome would to have the bill be dismissed as extortion of a government official carrying out the wishes of the Crown. It should be easy enough to win, but only if Mr. Pharmakós does not testify that it was an unofficial request."

Emily nodded. "Good. If you do not mind please take this up with the court, you are now the official lawyer regarding this case and representing Owen and by extension the Crown."

Corvo was surprised to see such a large smile cross Baldwin's face before he became serious. "Of course Empress! It would be my pleasure!" His chest puffed up with pride, the man scurried away.

"As for you," Emily approached the Outsider, her eyes locked with his. "Your mission to Ballyrood was my command, not a request," with each step she moved closer, the deity locked into place. "You were acting as my agent, and thus the bill is not for you, understood?"

"Understood," the word came out quietly, reverently.

Emily nodded, then turned her head and locked eyes with Corvo. "Go bring Corvo up to speed with the ongoing matters. I will see you both later."

She turned heel and took off down the hall, Billie melting out of the shadows of the wall and following her. Eulalia darted off after them, twittering gleefully. The Outsider let out a long sigh and then approached him.

"Come Attano, everything of note is within Lurk's office."

* * *

Corvo placed another file on top of the short stack of finished work. He certainly did not miss this menial but necessary work of updating old files, compiling reports, and outlining new objectives. Even so, there was a soothing simplicity to it, not to mention it was the perfect sort of work for someone with an immobilizing injury. As he laid open a new file the frustration returned. Corvo glanced up at his supposed helper. The Outsider had yet to even touch the files, and was simply sitting atop the file cabinets, a strange book floating in front of his face and occasionally writing furiously into a thick notebook. Corvo rolled his eyes and glared at him.

"Any particular reason as to why you seem to be allergic to the files?"

The Outsider started, a sheepish wince overtaking his face as he looked up from his notebook. "I'm sorry, I'll be finished in a moment."

"What even are you doing?" Corvo asked, his curiosity and irritation intermingling.

With a downward flick of his hands, the Outsider sent the book down. Corvo plucked it out of the air, staring at the open page. It was clearly an old, woefully out of date book of medicine, indicated its yellowed pages flecked with stains of ruddy red. As for what was the focus of this particular page, it was about ensuring the health of a pregnant woman with a slew of herbs, spells, and rituals. Corvo put down the book with a frown, glancing back up at the Outsider.

"Why are you reading this? It's not only out of date but the advice is ridiculous! Don't throw frogs at the woman, don't allow her to bathe naked, to look at ugly things, have her hold a magnet in her right hand always? What are you hoping to do with this information?"

The deity slumped and sank his uninjured hand into his hair. His black eye started hollowly into the middle distance, a stressed expression growing as his jaw clenched. "Emily won't tell anyone else she is pregnant. She does not want to tell Doctor Bonnefoy, she always brushes me off when I suggest her seeing Greta's Sisters. Since she refuses to see anyone who actually knows medicine and midwifery, I have to step in to make sure she is safe. All I know is magic and superstition. It can work, but honestly, I'm too close to this to think objectively. I have to try, but I… I can't do this."

Irritation fled from Corvo. He felt sorry for the Outsider. When Jessamine was pregnant he never had to worry about being her doctor. All he had to do was be there for the emotional tumult that pregnancy brought about, and occasionally reinforce doctors' orders. Void, he wasn't even in the delivery room during Emily's birth. The poor deity was trying to fill a gap that he should have never been asked to fill.

"Have you told her about this?" Corvo asked gently.

"What good would that do?" the Outsider snapped. "She would simply ask me not to worry about it and carry on with not seeing anybody. We'd just be back at where we started."

Corvo folded his arms. "You are letting yourself become uncomfortable for the sake of her comfort, and that is a dangerous path towards resentment. Your fear of being disliked by Emily has caused you to lose your spine in the face of needing to put your foot down. Emily won't hate you for forcing her to see a midwife. She will be grumpy and uncooperative but once it is done the first time it will be a lot easier the next."

The Outsider nodded, but the frustration did not go away. He took his hand out of his hair and shifted his one-eyed gaze towards Corvo. "I am already becoming overbearing and nagging, in no small part thanks to what I have read in an effort to learn how to help Emily. I do not think she will take me putting my foot down well."

"So I take it that you would rather me do it?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

Relief and hope overwhelmed the Outsider's face. "Would you do it? Please at least convince her to see Greta's Sisters Reilly and Marzia. They're good midwives, and they know who I am."

"Alright," Corvo acquiesced, a teasing smile blooming on his face. "But only if you start doing your fair share of the paperwork."

With a snap of his fingers the Outsider disappeared the book and his notebook, then with an upward flick summoned half the stack of files up to his perch. "Done. Please, bring this up as soon as you can?" he begged.

Corvo turned back to his work, attention slowly returning to the files. "I'll bring it up at dinner. But in the future, you need to have these conversations yourself, alright?"

The Outsider did not respond. Corvo shrugged it off, and pulled over the typewriter. Some handwritten notes needed to be compiled.

* * *

Dinner was a cozy affair. Snow had fallen throughout the day, lining the bottom of the windowsills and hushing any noise from outside. Unusually the Outsider was missing, and neither Emily nor her guest Greta had any clue as to where he was. Corvo nearly scoffed. Was the Outsider so afraid of a negative reaction that he avoided dinner altogether? In any case, his absence brought an odd ease to the table. That was likely because nobody was committing crimes against manners as well as stealing bits of food. Emily was rather preoccupied with talking to Greta, and as the two chatted from soup to nearly the end of the main course Corvo felt free to let his mind wander. He contently watched Eulalia acrobatically flit around the room, constantly returning to the table to peck at the hardtack left for her.

"So that's why the Outsider and I are visiting the Voronins," Emily explained, punctuating the sentence with a bite of broccoli.

"Ahhh, but don't you think you should wait to get married? I mean it's a little sudden?" Greta commented.

"Me getting pregnant is a little sudden," Emily retorted good-naturedly. "Besides, I rather like the idea of calling the Outsider my husband. Much more fun than calling him my lover."

"Or as Bernice would put it, baby daddy," Greta added.

Emily barked a laugh. "Bernice sure has a way with words!"

"Wait," Corvo interjected quietly, shifting his gaze over to Emily. "Greta's sisters are aware you are pregnant?"

Greta blushed bright red, staring down at her near-empty plate. Emily nodded, a smile on her face.

"She told them quite by accident and is still really embarrassed about it," she answered fondly.

"Are you _sure_ you're not mad about that?" squeaked the sheepish Sister.

"Honestly Greta, it's alright!" Emily reassured her, probably not for the first time in Corvo's opinion. "In fact, I'm a bit relieved that you told them."

Greta blinked hard, her sheepishness melting away as she straightened with confusion. She glanced at Corvo, then back at Emily. "Really?"

His daughter gave a sheepish laugh, setting down her fork and knife. "It's a little silly of me, but I am rather nervous about telling people I am pregnant. I want them to be happy with me rather than judge me or be upset. It's a relief not to have to tell them but also hear that they are willing to support me."

Greta relaxed and sent a mischievous glance over to Corvo. "Hope has already called dibs on teaching the baby to use firearms."

Corvo nodded slowly. "So the Sisters who are aware are the Sisters I have met?"

"Yes, thank goodness!" she replied quickly. "I would never have forgiven myself if I shared the news with another group of my Sisters. I love them all but they wouldn't understand."

Indeed it was good she had only spilled the beans to this trustworthy bunch. Other than the blind outspoken Bernice, Corvo had trouble recalling who was in the group. "This includes a Sister Reilly and Marzia?"

"Yep," Emily answered. "Sisters Mary, Reilly, Marzia, Eileen, Hope, and Bernice."

"Good," he murmured. "Since Sisters Reilly and Marzia are aware that you are pregnant and are happy to support you, why don't go see them?"

Emily went from cheery to stone-faced in a heartbeat. "The Outsider put you up to this, didn't he?"

"That he did," Corvo replied swiftly, laying down his utensils as he finished the last bit of broccoli. "And I happen to agree with him. He wants to see you happy and healthy however he is ill-equipped to ensure that you stay healthy. The Sisters are better equipped to do that, so let them take care of it."

She rolled her eyes. "Corvo, I am fine! I'm eating, the nausea is manageable, I'm not going to suddenly drop dead. I don't need you worrying about me too."

Greta cleared her throat. "Actually, I'm with the Outsider and Corvo on this one. You might be fine now but some things can sneak up on you. It's important to check now while you're healthy than try to do damage control while you're sick. I know it sounds ridiculous but it would make all of us feel better if you at least checked in with Sister Reilly and Marzia. I promise, they will be discreet and helpful."

"Not you too Greta!" Emily groaned.

A sharp look overtook the Sister's face. "Look, Emily, I'm going to be blunt. Pregnancy is dangerous even when everything is going right. If things go wrong, both you and your child can and will end up hurt or even dead. The Outsider is keenly aware of that and will very much blame himself if anything happens to you, especially if you refuse to see any midwife or doctor. Unless he knows you are getting advice and care from someone, he's going to keep trying to fill that gap. Holgar knows he is going to give the wrong advice at some point because books are no substitute for experience. We are all begging you, please see Sister Reilly and Marzia."

Silence filled the room. Emily stared at Greta, defiance giving away to contrition. Greta softened and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Corvo sought her gaze and found it, and within found a flicker of vulnerability.

"Emily, I understand how vulnerable it is to see a doctor," he said gently. "It must be even more so when seeing a midwife. If you need someone with you I will happily go. I am certain the Outsider would also tag along with you."

"I'll go with you too if that's what you want!" Greta added earnestly.

Corvo nodded, a small smile crossing his face. "We all want you to be safe and happy. I know it is difficult for you to see doctors, but I promise you, you will be glad you did."

Emily nodded, inhaling deeply. "Fine, I'll go see them, but only when I return from seeing the Voronins," she said stubbornly.

He let go of a breath he did not know he was holding in. A full smile reached his face, and he locked eyes with her. Corvo nodded slightly, trying to convey his acceptance and gratitude. Emily, formerly stiff as a board, relaxed, thankful recognition gleaming in her eyes. Beside her, the little Sister's face lit up.

"Good enough!" Greta cheered. "Now, to switch to a more interesting topic, did you know a bunch of Bloody Bones were found in White Cliff's sewers?"

"Bloody bones?" Corvo asked, mildly confused. "So were they part of a ritual?"

Greta shook her head, holding up her hands. "I think I need to clarify what Bloody Bones actually are."

"So they are not what the name indicates?" Emily pressed with a raised eyebrow.

"Not exactly," the Sister pulled a face, looking rather disgusted with something. "Bloody Bones are an undead flayed and gutted human corpse that haunts water-filled pits and sewers. We're not too sure what sort of spirit is within the corpse or how exactly they come about but they seem to have a strange sense of humor because when you play any sort of music, including our music boxes, they dance."

Corvo couldn't help the amused smile come to his face as he imagined the Overseer's faces when they found out that their music boxes were useless. Well, not useless, just producing unexpected results.

"So, do they just hang out there?" Emily frowned, looking a little confused. "Other than their overall repulsiveness, are they dangerous?"

"Oh they are dangerous," Greta answered with deep sincerity. "My Brothers only started to look as people kept finding body parts in the sewer grates, and several workers vanished for days on end. Unfortunately, we don't know how to get rid of them yet, just how to avoid them and pacify them."

"Does pacifying them perchance have something to do with music?" Corvo dryly jested. Emily gave him a chiding look but failed to stifle her smile entirely.

"Actually, yes," said Greta just as dryly. "So my Brothers are having me look for more permanent solutions so they don't have to chaperone everyone who needs to go down into the sewer."

"Can't you just give sewer workers a music box?" Emily asked with a puzzled frown.

Greta blinked, then pulled a face, chin in hand. "You know, I was wondering the same thing, especially since it sounds like the Bloody Bones dances to any music that it likes on top of our special music boxes. I think it is guaranteed to dance to our special music boxes, but all other types of music are subjective. As for why we can't just give anyone our music boxes, the standard types are pretty hard to make and several important Overseers would rather cut off their hands than let just anyone touch them. High Overseer Chopin's tiny music boxes are a potential tool but he has yet to share to anyone how to make them. Perhaps I should ask him."

"I agree that you should," Corvo added quietly. "Such devices can keep many people safe, even if they are not the sort to run around in the sewers. Though I doubt that the Abbey would permit the sale of such boxes, even if they inspire devotion; selling the boxes means they lose some control."

"And we do like our control," Greta sighed. "I've gotten a couple letters from my Brothers in Baleton and Old Lamprow regarding Bloody Bones. We've pretty much been finding all sorts of strange critters since the Áneukhrmato showed up, like knuckers in wells, ghosts in houses and graveyards, owls that fly upside-down. Everywhere except Dunwall really."

Emily made a noise of interest, a thoughtful look in her eye. "I wonder why that is. We did have the Áneukhrmato show up, so why not anything else?"

"Perhaps the Outsider did something," Corvo suggested.

As if that was a summoning spell, the Outsider materialized in the room, a severed hand floating beside him as he gnawed at the exposed brains of a boiled sheep's head, flecks of juices jumping up to stain the bandages covering his injured eye. In the corner of his eye, Corvo saw Emily immediately turn green.

"Outsider, would you mind putting that away?" Greta piped up, her voice tight with queasiness.

He lifted up his head, his mouth shiny with grease, and finally noticed that Emily was eagerly looking out the window with her napkin over her mouth. "Oh! Sorry," the floating severed hand disappeared, but not his rather abhorrent meal.

"She meant the sheep's head," Corvo added with a sigh and roll of his eyes. The Outsider flushed, and then the head vanished to who knows where. Taking the napkin off his lap, Corvo balled it up and tossed it to him. "Clean your face, then join us."

He snatched the napkin out of the air with surprising elegance and carefully set to wiping his face before approaching the table. Emily's eyes were closed as she took deep even breaths, Greta soothing her in a low voice. She opened her eyes and finally removed the napkin from her mouth as the Outsider sat down, his posture contrite. She flashed a tight smile at him, then said:

"Please don't eat whatever the void that was in front of me again."

He nodded earnestly, wincing. "I'm sorry, I let my hunger get the best of me. I promise it won't happen again."

"What the void was it that you were eating and did you make it yourself?" asked Greta, still revolted.

The Outsider glanced over to Emily, seeming to ask her permission to speak. She nodded oh so slightly, looking rather curious.

"Well," he started slowly. "What I was eating was sheep's head and brain. It's a traditional meal in Tartary. I grabbed it because I was hungry, and it looked pretty good."

Corvo couldn't help but chuckle. The Outsider was like a disposal bin, willing to eat anything. Still, that was not the most curious part of the answer. "What were you doing there?"

A noise of disgust came from the Outsider as he leaned back in the chair. "I decided on a whim to see how Yusef, one of my Marked, was faring. Well, he was faring far too well. He had become entitled and complacent. He screamed and demanded me to bestow my mark upon his firstborn son. First off, said son was an infant and more likely to accidentally kill someone or himself with those powers. Second off, his ten daughters were far more worthy of my Mark than the boy will ever be-"

"Ten daughters?!" Emily interjected, sounding horrified.

"Yusef has three wives, Fatima, Roxelana, and Sara," the Outsider counted them off on his fingers.

"Yusef sounds like a greedy bastard," Greta grumbled, placing her chin on her hand as she leaned on the table.

"He is, but that's not what angered me," the Outsider declared absently. "Roxelana, the mother of the son, was just as entitled as Yusef, all because she was the one who bore a son. She wouldn't even let me hold the babe. He was a year old, it's not like I would break him!"

A very sappy smile crossed Emily's face, clearly endeared by the idea of the Outsider holding a baby. Corvo looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow.

"You currently have a broken arm. I wouldn't allow some stranger with only one viable arm to hold my child."

Instead of being irritated, like Corvo fully expected him to, the Outsider waved him off. "Oh, they couldn't tell that. To the people of Tartary, I always look like a shadow, two arms, and two legs. In any case when I refused Yusef threatened me, which was rather irritating as without my Mark he would be nothing special. He owed much to me and instead of being grateful demanded more. So I cut off his hand."

Greta pulled out a notebook and scribbled down something, a look of concentration on her face as she wrote. Then her head shot up, a confused look on her face. "Wait, why do the people of Tartary see you as a shadow?"

"Because Tartary is further from the void than the Isles, I believe," the Outsider shrugged, a small frown forming on his face. "Though I doubt that is a sufficient explanation anymore. Perhaps I appear how people expect I appear? Who knows. In any case, I cut off his left hand, grabbed my sheep head, and left."

Emily barked out a short laugh. "That sounds like quite the evening!"

A smile crossed the Outsider's face, his eye locking onto Emily's face. "It was, I suppose. It certainly was nice to put Yusef in his place. His family will be alright."

"It's good that his daughters and wives won't necessarily suffer due to his folly," Greta remarked absently. Then her gaze sharpened with recollection, and she perked up. "So before you arrived we were discussing why no strange monsters could be found in Dunwall, and Corvo suggested that you might have done something."

Suddenly, the Outsider looked rather uncomfortable, and if he had swallowed something the wrong way. "I did do something," the words came out reluctantly. He seemed to be more than happy to leave it at that, but Greta stared at him expectantly. "I completed a ritual to the god Lupercus, the guardian of my long dead home, to protect Dunwall and its citizens and prevent any beast or foul spirit from hunting within its bounds. It was the only rite of protection I knew of at the time, and I was expecting that it would grant me the power to protect Dunwall. Instead… I think Lupercus is doing the protecting."

There was a long silence as everyone digested the information. Greta's eyes bugged out, and she scribbled furiously.

"So," Corvo said, hesitant. "You, a god, called on another god to protect Dunwall, and it is fulfilling your request?"

"I guess?" the Outsider sounded wildly frustrated. "Though it does not make a lick of sense to me. There are no gods, none but me. Yet… I heard his voice! He accepted the sacrifices I gave him! But the Void forbade me from asking any questions, and was quite furious to find out I had done the rite, so you know as much as I."

"Wait, the void forbade you from asking questions?" Greta asked, confounded. "How is the void able to forbid you from asking questions?"

"By having the possibility of preventing me from ever living in the Isles during this lifetime, as well as many other horrible, horrible things," the Outsider shuddered, a haunted hollow look crossing his face. "The Void is not kind, and it is very particular."

A look of distaste crossed Emily's face. "It's condescending and idiotic while also having the cunning and ability to ruin your life on a whim."

A chill ran down Corvo's spine. "How do you know that?"

"It wanted to meet me so it dragged me into the void the last week," Emily sighed, rolling her eyes briefly. "It was an experience I could do without."

Corvo shifted his gaze over to the Outsider, worried. "I did not realize the Void had a powerful personality."

"Oh it does," the Outsider remarked dryly. "You need to have a certain amount of exposure to it to get a comprehensible handle on it."

Greta looked up at her writing with a raised eye brow. "You mean you normally need to be batshit insane. I'm betting the only reason Emily has any sort of handle on the anthropomorphic side of the Void is that she's pregnant with your child."

"That sounds about right," Emily commented. "I could feel the presence of the Void beforehand occasionally, but it wasn't anything that doesn't come with being Marked. I also sometimes dreamed of the Void and whatnot, but it was pretty abstract and incomprehensible."

"Sounds pretty standard with what I have read," Greta closed her notebook. "We've got some interviews with those who are really off the deep end, like Vera Moray aka Granny Rags. She had a raging lust for the Void. I never did find out what happened to her."

"Oh Gods why did you have to remind me of that!" the Outsider cried, sounding very pained. "Crazy old bat always summoning me to give things to the Void, and then the Void would force me to give her new magic. I am very, very glad Corvo offed her; I was getting sick of the whole thing."

Greta and Emily looked at him, and Corvo just shrugged. "She was trying to kill me."

"In any case, she was oddly enough the most coherent of the interviews I read," Greta leaned back into a chair. "My favorite is the interview of Titus "the Rat" Matherson who constantly saw the Void as millions of rats in a greatcoat. Kept a ton of cats around to keep the Void away, and when he died the cats ate his face off."

The mention rang a bell in Corvo's mind. "I remember hearing about that when I first came to Dunwall. It was the talk of the town for a solid week. When the Rat Plague appeared several folks that could remember Matherson seemed to regard him as having some sort of foresight."

"He might have," the Outsider shrugged. "The Void likes to give certain people visions of what might be just for fun, but since it's the one giving them without any of my mediation such visions tend to be…twisted."

Greta shuddered. "Ugh. Why is direct exposure to the Void so bad for us?"

"It might be just because it's how things are supposed to be," Emily remarked thoughtfully. "Like how salt kills slugs and too much sun can burn the skin. Perhaps you could devise some experiment to figure it out?"

"Perhaps," the word was punctuated with a yawn from Greta. "Unfortunately I must get going. I promised to help Marzia with her meditations."

"Farewell!" Emily grasped her hand and the Sister gave it a brief squeeze. "Thank you for coming over."

"It was my pleasure!" Greta got to her feet. "I'll be able to pop in before you go to Bastillian. Until then, stay safe!"

"You know I will," Emily declared with a smile and a wink. Greta laughed, and then gave a wave over to him and the Outsider.

"Farewell you two, I hope you both get better soon!"

"Farewell to you too Greta," Corvo said, offering a small wave back. The Outsider simply gave a thumbs up.

As Greta closed the door behind her the Outsider stood up, a rather tired look on his face. "I can hear the Void screaming for me. I'll be back before the moon reaches its zenith."

Corvo nodded, even though he knew this information wasn't for him. Emily gave him a softer smile and held out her hand. The Outsider went over to her and took it, bringing it to his lips, brimming with affection.

"Don't forget to eat," she murmured warmly. He gave her hand back, revealing a mischievous smile.

"I certainly won't." Then he dissolved into nothing.

Emily gave a long fond sigh, slowly shifting her gaze over to Corvo. Eulalia finally returned from some far-flung corner of the room and landed on the table between them. She beeped cheerfully then darted to Emily's shoulder, happy settling into the crook of her neck, fluffing up into a little ball.

"So why did the Void want to see you now?" Corvo asked. In the quiet, his voice felt loud and the question felt accusing, even though he was truly curious. "I thought the Outsider was locked out of the Void? How were you able to go to it?"

Instead of clamming up, Emily tilted her head thoughtfully. "I was asleep when I was pulled into the void, and I am sure the Outsider was also there not in body. He has a shrine in the safe room, and the few times I see him there before it he is like a statue. I don't think we are in the void physically, but we all have a little bit of the void within us. Thanks to that it can reach out and affect us physically if it so desires."

"Ah," he nodded. It seemed to make sense, though little about the void made any meaningful sense. "But why meet you now? Why not earlier or later?"

A flicker of caution sprung up in her dark eyes. Emily hesitated, and then reached across the table, holding out her hands. Corvo took them, shoving down his wariness so he could be properly supportive. He looked her in the eyes, as warm as he could be.

"You must promise me not to get upset," she insisted, eyes pleading.

Corvo gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "I promise."

Emily let out a long exhale, seemingly steeling herself before speaking "Greta and her sisters found out my life was in danger due to my pregnancy. They warned the Outsider, and he went to see the Void about it alongside other things. He did not tell me about that danger; it seemed that he wanted to find a solution before telling me about the problem. In any case, the Void pulled me in to meet me and to negate the danger. I am fine now, so please do not worry."

He felt his head spin a little. Her pregnancy made her dangerously sick, and the Sisters of all people were the first to catch it. How did the Outsider not know? How did he, her own father, not know? But she was fine now, the Void fixed things. Things it might have caused in the first place. But he promised not to worry, not to get upset.

"Did the Void do anything to you?" Corvo asked quietly, trying to suppress his worry with curiosity.

"It altered me to be more resilient to the more corrosive side of the void," the words came somewhat reluctantly from Emily's mouth. "Who I am should not be different in the least, but should be more physically resistant to damage alongside other things the Void threw in for a laugh."

"Other things the Void threw in for a laugh?!" Corvo could not stop the horror from blooming through him. He promised not to be upset but how could he not be? What in the boiling summer sun did that creature do to his daughter?

"It's nothing serious, really!" Emily squeezed his hands, trying to reassure him. "Just things like itching around blue haired men and being marginally more delicious to certain animals."

"Marginally more delicious?!" Void he was simply repeating words because he was so shocked. "There are bloody monsters wandering the world now, and it made you marginally more delicious?!"

She fell silent, blood draining out of her face. She didn't even consider that. In fact, Corvo could guess that nobody considered that. Anger rose in his throat. "Did the Outsider not protest?"

"Oh, he protested," Emily murmured, her voice faint. "But the Void refused to remove them. I would rather take that bullshit than slowly die as my child unwittingly eats me alive."

Corvo felt his breath stolen from him. He had felt powerless before; forgive him he had felt it all too often. But so often he could find a solution. He could outwit his opponents, recruit allies, or simply muscle his way through. What could he do here? Scold the Void for endangering his daughter?

"I am sorry," the words came out of his mouth quiet, defeated. He did not know what else to say.

Emily squeezed his hands, her smile sad but eyes warm and understanding. "You are here for me, and that is all I could ask."

He returned the squeeze, filled with love for his daughter. He would never leave her undefended against the slings and arrows of fortune, not while he had a say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late upload! Thank you all to reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoyed this new chapter!


	45. Chapter 44: Methuselah

Chapter 44: Methuselah

The Outsider's back was to the cold dark sea as he sat at the foot of King Seamus' tree. Perched at the top of the tall cliffs around Wynnedown, the hollow tree trembled in the wind, snow shaken from its branches as more flakes tumbled in from the dark sea-born clouds. In weather like this, it was little wonder that the deceased king still had his skin and hair, now crowned with snow. The Outsider looked up into his empty sockets, distant remorse flickering in the back of his throat. A man dead before his own time by his machinations, now nothing but loveless skin and bone; it pricked his conscious.

"You will be honored," the Outsider murmured, painfully aware he was talking to nothing. "I will ensure your spirit does not wander the Void."

King Seamus, of course, said nothing.

The Outsider relaxed in the hush of the falling snow, the faintness of the waves far below. His mind felt clear, and his wounds did not ache so much anymore. Emily was preoccupied with matters of state, meeting with Members of Parliament vexed over Morley's unclear succession. No matter. At the moment he would not be missed.

"What the helium is that?"

The Outsider jumped at the sudden loud disgusted voice. It was Elanor, dressed in clothes far better suited for warmer weather. He looked around, hoping the nearby guards did not notice her and then him. When they did not budge, the Outsider glared up at her furiously.

"What are you doing here?"

"We have an unfinished conversation," Elanor replied primly. "Now that I have gotten Thaddeus off my back, I can take you to the House Over There and finish that conversation."

"I have no interest in finishing it," he dismissed her tersely, turning his face back towards King Seamus. Though he must admit he wondered who this Thaddeus person was.

"No interest?" Elanor didn't raise her voice, much to the Outsider's surprise. "You don't want to know what makes us tick? What could be causing monsters to walk the earth again? Why you were a concession to the Void?"

"I am not in a position to anger the Void," he said flatly.

"It can't be angry about what it does not know," she tempted in a sing-song voice.

"Tempting," with a roll of his eyes the Outsider glanced up at her. "I have to decline."

Elanor made a noise of annoyance. "What if this information could make you human again, or make Emily immortal? Then would it be worth something to you?"

The Outsider jumped to his feet, her words hitting a spot in his mind that was firmly closed off. "Fine!" he hissed. "I'll go with you to this 'House Over There', but this better not take long. I cannot afford to be punished."

Elanor nodded, a tense smile on her lips. "Neither can I. Alright, we'll be quick. Just jump into the void and I'll tug you to where we need to go, ok?"

* * *

The first thing the Outsider noticed when the tug ceased was a noise… a sound that seemed to rest in his bones and seize his heart in a way that was almost painful. He could faintly make out words, but not of a language he could understand.

"Ugh, he's listening to Gasolina again," Elanor complained, her body bright in the suffocating empty darkness. Before them was a large, intricate cloud of brilliant blues and purples, twinkling and gleaming. "I'm going to have to lower the music before he even can hear us. Just wait here, then I'll bring you in."

She darted off into the cloud, leaving the Outsider to count his breaths, each one coming easier than the last. Ten breathes later, the sound ceased thrumming in his bones, and the tug returned. With a yank that blurred his vision, he was pulled into the glowing cloud.

"Ahhhh! The little concession has become a God! And he is here seeking the other side of the story is he not?" the voice of a wizened old man ran into his ears, an oddly booming tone for something so feeble. His eyesight adjusted, and saw, looking up at him, an elderly dwarf made entirely of white light.

"Methuselah, meet the Outsider," Elanor introduced. "The Outsider, Methuselah."

"It is a pleasure to meet you lad!" the star pulled on his long beard, flashing a gap-toothed smile at him. "I must say, this is my first ever time meeting the God of the Void. You are far nicer than your predecessor already."

The Outsider blinked, feeling lost already. "My predecessor?"

"Oh yes," Methuselah nodded wisely, his body giving a brief flickering shudder at some memory as he wandered over and taking a handful of the cloud. "It was far stronger and hungrier than its predecessors, but since each one ate the one before it such a thing makes sense."

"Why the hell would it do that?" Elanor asked, sounding disgusted.

"It's the only way to get a stable form," Methuselah smiled as he wove the cloud into a cup filled with a smoking liquid. "Gods aren't as stable as you, me, or the Void. Their forms and powers can be taken by anyone more powerful than them. Besides, it was the culture back then. I am very glad we put a stop to that."

The Outside nodded slowly, folding his unbroken arm into the sling. "So, what even is a god?"

The dwarf hummed, sipping his celestial cup. "Well, how should I put it? I suppose it is still true now, though perhaps the near 5,000 years have changed things. As it used to be, gods were once spirits created by intelligent minds and allowed to fuse with Chaos. And your predecessors, dear the Outsider, were the ones that gave those spirits access to Chaos."

Elanor looked over at him, then back at Methuselah. She seemed to be as utterly lost as he was, which was a relief. Slowly she raised her hand, as he had seen some schoolchildren do.

"I'm sorry Methuselah, but what is Chaos?"

The star choked, spewing his drink into the air and then pounding his hand onto his chest. Once he was back to normal he cried:

"What is Chaos?! Has Thaddeus taught you nothing child?"

"Thaddeus doesn't teach any of us about the gods really, just that we shouldn't mix with the Void," Elanor replied in a small voice. Gobsmacked, Methuselah turned to the Outsider.

"Surely you must know what Chaos is, especially since the Void and the council allowed you to ascend?"

Ire immediately rose in his gut. Elanor had brought him here under false pretenses and hadn't even bothered to tell him what those pretenses were. There was no way he could blow their cover, otherwise, they were done for. He grit his teeth in an annoyed smile.

"While I might be informed, Elanor is not so why not have you explain it to her, so we can all be on the same page?"

Fortunately, Methuselah did not notice his annoyance and turned toward Elanor. "I shall have words with Thaddeus about this. Not learning what Chaos is- a disgrace! Now, child, Chaos is a force, the excess of the Energy that made us all. In the past it was everywhere, practically bleeding out of the seams of the universe. But after what happened, the Void agreed to take it all on the condition we give him someone to guard it. And that's why we have the Outsider!"

"Wait, I thought the Outsider was a concession for the Void's aid and cooperation in the incident?" Elanor asked back.

Methuselah stared at her blankly for a moment then burst out laughing, jostling his cup, spilling the still-smoking liquid. It immediately turned into gas upon striking the dwarf's round belly.

"Oh, child! Is that what they are teaching you? You poor thing! I suppose you both need to hear the full story of what happened with all those gods and your predecessor."

"Please share, the Void never said much about the whole matter," the Outsider coaxed sweetly.

"I very much doubt it did!" Methuselah remarked with a snort. "It came out of the whole thing looking very much like a fool. Now," it flicked its hands and a couch formed out of a skein of purple cloud. "Make yourselves comfortable and I will tell you how the gods threatened to devour all that was and all that lay beyond."

Uncertain with what else to do, and rather curious, the Outsider took a seat on the couch. It did not feel like anything. Elanor threw herself into it and gleefully sank into the glittering purple. Seeing that they were now captive, Methuselah darkened the space somehow, leaving only his dim glowing self and a slab of empty blackness.

"For billions of years, the universe teemed with life!" In the blackness came pricks of light, some forming into round spheres, others strange creatures, some stars. "The planets, each far flung from each other, produced life, and some even produced intelligent minds! With each bright mind came spirits, each beseeching the God of the Void for power. Nobody knows where the first God of the Void came from, and the Void itself will not say. The God of the Void, being a lonely sort, bestowed Chaos upon the spirits, teaching them how to fuse the energy to themselves. They all loved and cherished her, and as centuries passed more gods appeared."

Across the black slab, forms danced, growing from thin wisps to fleshed out creatures, each foreign to the Outsider… except for one.

"Is that Fons?" the question came out softly, awed.

"Oh, one of your planet's gods?" Methuselah scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm sorry to say I never met any of them. They always kept to themselves, never bothered anyone. That did save them in the end in a way. As for the other gods, the first to realize that devouring other gods gave them power was Itokawa," before them appeared a massive creature with a grinning maw that ran between its stalked eyes down to its fat segmented tail. "Or was it Gaspra? Either way, it looked something like this. Needless to say, they devoured the first God of the Void. Those who were unhappy about it and protested were devoured too. And so life moved on, much the same as before but with more devouring in it. A shame. Now, for the first god who learned they could devour planets to get a similar boost without the fighting, that was Keith."

The Outsider blinked hard, staring at the image of a centipede-like creature with three wings and tentacles. "Keith?"

Methuselah shrugged. "Maybe, my memory is not quite what it used to be. Anyway, it ate the planet of its worshipper's enemies, ate their survivors, and in the whole ruckus ate his worshipper's planet too. Now that caused a great deal of chiding from the other gods and the God of the Void. So they all decided that eating inhabited planets is not ok, but eating uninhabited planets is fair game. I'm still surprised they never said anything about not eating other gods, but it had been three billion years since the first God of the Void had been devoured and the Void was on its 50th god by that point so I don't think anyone thought to say anything about it. If they did, they'd probably get eaten."

"What were the stars doing all this time?" Elanor piped up. "Surely they were trying to protect the intelligent life?"

"Oh my sweet stellar summer child," Methuselah sighed, a bittersweet smile on his face. "We had no reason to involve ourselves with the matters of gods and mortals. We had to manage the laws divine and mundane, keep a tally of time, make sure that our dead did not kill our living, we had enough to do as it is."

"What do you mean your dead kill your living?" the Outsider asked, mildly confused.

"Oh, some of our dead collapse in such a way we break into the very reaches of the Void, even breaking through it. Such contact is very dangerous to us, so we contain it with our sciences. It's not anything you should concern yourself with." The star waved him off

The Outsider nodded, keeping his mouth shut though he had more questions. What did he mean 'break through the Void'? There was nothing beyond the Void, was there?

"So the status quo continued until about one hundred thousand years ago," Methuselah continued. "A few gods here and there ate their planets of their worshipper's rivals, ate their rivals, ate the odd populated planet here and there and their orphaned gods. But that all changed when Nishant assumed the role of God of the Void." The slab of blackness remained blank as Methuselah went silent.

"Um, what did Nishant looks like?" Elanor said cautiously.

"I cannot bear to remember them for long," Methuselah uttered, his voice trembling. "They were a horror beyond any other, and many of my brothers and sisters died at their hand. Their name alone is the one I remember most clearly. Not even my own name looms so largely in my memories."

"What did they do?" the quiet question slipped out of the Outsider's mouth. Yet, he already knew the answer.

"They ate us," Methuselah's clear eyes bore into the Outsider, his haunted look burning itself upon him. "After all, they ate planets, so why not stars?"

Elanor gasped, choking down a horrified sob.

"What could we do against gods? We are beings that keep the rules mundane and divine, but gods, they are beings of pure Chaos, pure harnessed Chaos! Such a force has no rules, and it can break all rules we can lay down. Whole galaxies were extinguished. We couldn't stop the gods, we couldn't stop Nishant."

A beat of silence followed his speech. Elanor and Methuselah were trembling, their light flickering. The Outsider frowned. Someone was missing throughout this whole story.

"Where was the Void when all of this was happening?"

A flare of bright light issued from the dwarf as his bitter cackle filled the room. "Where was the Void? WHERE WAS THE VOID? Why the Void was in another universe!"

The Outsider felt his brain stutter to a stop for a long moment. "What?"

"HE WAS AT DISNEYWORLD," roared Methuselah, sharp energy rapidly heating the room, burning his skin.

"What is Disneyworld?" he asked meekly, feeling cowed by the ancient star.

The bright heat faded as Methuselah looked at him, dumbfounded. "You don't know?"

"The Void asks three things of me," the Outsider intoned. "Observe the world mortal, and perhaps meddle when we see fit. Ignore what lay beyond them. Protect the integrity of the Void. I did not know the stars were beings like me until earlier this year."

The dwarf's legs seemed to fail him and he collapsed. "You did not even know we existed? Oh holy hydrogen, it as if the very past was erased."

"You didn't know there were universes beyond our own?" Elanor asked, baffled. "I guess that makes sense, especially if the Void didn't want you to know it was sneaking off."

"How can the Void sneak off?" the Outsider felt a headache coming on. "I was in it, I could feel it all around me, within me."

A sympathetic look appeared on the stars faces. Methuselah offered him a comforting look. "Multiple universes have conceptions of the Void, and the Void can exist wherever there is a concept of it, but only if it has a placeholder here. That is why it always has a representative, to hold the universe together while its consciousness is elsewhere."

"Why did it never tell me this?" he shook his head as if to empty the brimming over knowledge from his skull. He ran his hand through his hair, agitated.

"Perhaps it has something to do with the final part of my story," Methuselah said, getting back to his feet. "Nishant realized that they could travel to other universes through the collapsed corpse of a star. And so it did with thousands of others, hungry for all they could lay hands on."

"Where did they end up?" whispered Elanor

"From what the Void confesses, something called a Disney Cruise. It involves things called ships and a mouse," Methuselah shrugged. "We tried asking it more about it, but all we got from it was, I quote 'No one fucks with the Mouse'. Perhaps it will be more open to you?"

"I deeply doubt it," the Outsider rolled his eyes.

"In any case, the Void had temporarily robbed Nishant and the gods of their bodies, kicked them back here, closed the hole and worked with us to utterly destroy anything of left Nishant and their followers. I am not exactly sure why us working with the Void allowed us to defeat the gods, but it did. At the end of their rampage, only three galaxies were left, and only one inhabited planet."

"What happened to all the other gods?" Elanor's glowing eyes were wide, her hands folded tightly in anticipation.

"Their worshippers were dead, so we killed them, breaking them down into the Chaos they came from. We sent that energy into the Void to stay, safely locked up away from trouble."

"But what about my gods?" the Outsider asked. "You said that they always kept to themselves, never bothered anyone, something that saved them."

"Why we let them live," Methuselah said, wiping his brow. "However, we couldn't allow them to have access to Chaos. It was too dangerous. In fact, that's why you were even allowed to be. We needed someone to be the controller of all Chaos, or as the mortals down there call it, magic. In fact, you being here… Elanor?"

She smiled expectantly at the old dwarf whose eyes narrowed suspiciously. "If he is a god, then that means the council allowed the barrier to be broken, which they explicitly said they would never allow to happen."

Elanor laughed nervously. "Really? But recently, they've changed their mind!"

"Young missy," the dwarf crossed his arms, his big voice becoming scolding, threatening. "I can tell when you are lying."

The Outsider tried to leave. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't have his cover blown. The stars couldn't be happy with his change in status. They might even want him dead. There was no fucking way he was going to die to a bunch of goddamn stars. But as soon as he tried to get up from the couch, the sharp star's tug immediately pulled him back in place. Furious he glared at Elanor. That star was going to bring him down with him!

Then suddenly, Methuselah went dim and slumped forward collapsing to the ground.

" **I was wondering where you went,** " hissed the Void.

* * *

How they were pulled into the void the Outsider could not answer; all he knew was the burning pain it took to enter it. At least in dreams, his spirit could be pulled in with little injury. Why indeed the Void did not do that was beyond him. Perhaps it was part of the punishment for his transgression.

The Outsider watched Elanor shiver next to him, a bubble surrounding her. He sat atop a ruined chair, fear flooding his blood as the Void gazed down upon him.

" **So, you now know what happened,** " the Void's voice was the iciest he had ever heard it.

"Yes," the word slipped softly from his mouth.

" **And what does this change?** " the words itched his left ear.

"Nothing?" the Outsider hedged.

" **Wrong!** " the Void bellowed, shaking everything around them. Elanor burst into tears. " **The star is lucky she chose a senile old dwarf, otherwise you, your bitch, and your offspring would be well and truly fucked! Even then, there is no guarantee that that prick Thaddeus wouldn't brush him off.** "

"What would me continuing in my ignorance do?" he weakly pushed back, swallowing the flicker of anger he felt at Emily being called a bitch…again. The situation was far too grave for him to nitpick.

The Void morphed into a furiously grinning cat, its claws sharp. " **Well, it would allow me to easily defend you of being the head any nefarious plans for a fucking start. Now that you know things, who is to say that you're not trying to do what your idiot predecessor did?** "

"Then just wipe that from my mind," the Outsider snapped, irritation pulling through fear. "I gained next to nothing from that experience. It told me nothing about why monsters would be running around the Isles, whether or not I can become mortal or Emily immortal. Just scold Elanor and let her go."

" **Ugh, fine** ," The Void turned its yellow eyes Elanor. " **Do not take my representative into space ever again, got it?** "

Elanor nodded furiously, tears streaming and turning into steam as they ran down her face.

" **Alright, now shoo,** " with a wave of its paw the star popped out of the void. In spite of his annoyance, the Outsider hoped she would be alright. The Void shifted to glare at him, and then let out a long, defeated sigh. " **My dear representative, we have crossed a threshold I never thought we would cross. I honestly thought we would have parted ways months ago, either through your death or your reversion to mortality,** " the Outsider looked at the Void in dumbfounded shock, prompting it to roll its lamp-like eyes. " **I knew what you were planning, it was no surprise. You were breaking anyway, falling apart at the seams. It was honestly heartbreaking to watch.** "

"Heartbreaking?" the Outsider scoffed bitterly. "Don't make me laugh."

" **I understand you never truly liked me, nor relished your duties,** " the Void remarked sadly, its form drooping. " **What you must understand is you and I, the whole of Chaos, were tied together. Once you died, once you left the Void, I would cease to be, Chaos would cease to be. No magic nor gods would ever walk this universe again. This was my punishment for my carelessness, to die alongside you, to fade away to a dumb empty expanse inhabited only by the whistling solar winds. I was prepared to do it, I had accepted my fate.** "

The Outsider opened his mouth, but no words came from it. What was even supposed to say to that? Dumbly, words fell unbidden from his mouth. "But Methuselah said that the void must always have a representative of conscious mind to hold the universe together"

" **Pha! They believed that nonsense?** " it sneered. " **The only reason I had representatives before is so the stars and gods could bug them instead of me. It was so bloody annoying talking to them. What I didn't expect was it to spiral out of control.** " The irritation quickly faded, and the energy seeped out of his form. The Void melted from a cat to a mirror of him, pale grey eyes peering back at him behind a mask of melancholy. " **I don't know how you ascended. It was never planned to happen; the stars thought it inconceivable. You are not part of me anymore, no longer my avatar; you are your own person, free to do as you desire, no longer needing to dwell within me. Your ascension broke the barrier holding all Chaos within me; it now trickles out into your planet. The stars have not noticed yet, but they will,** " a long sigh issued from the Void as it walked over to him and sat beside him, floating in the air. " **I do not want you dead, not because it would kill me but because I am fond of you. How could I not be? You are my hand-picked representative, the only one I have truly enjoyed talking to. I am fond of your bitch-er, woman, and I already delight in meeting your offspring. We cannot go back to the way we were before. So what now? Now I reward you for your service. I free you from your responsibilities for a human lifetime. Go, be with your women, sire a few offspring and keep your mind off the Beyond. There is no point worrying about what you cannot control. Do not talk to any gods or those who claim to be gods. Destroy them if you can. In return, I will keep you safe. The stars cannot destroy you without my consent.** "

"This has to be a jest," the Outsider whispered.

" **I cannot make you believe me,** " the Void's smile was bittersweet. " **But I can live up to my word. Your magic is yours, your life is yours. Do what you will with it. If you need me, I will be here.** "

A hush settled over them, in the grey-blue of the ruined room. In the distance, he could hear the songs of Amόra and Bḕsalon, and Dámalis and Limṓdēs. The confusing tumult within him grew until he was uncertain of where he was. Was he dead, was this all some dream meant to torture him? The Outsider felt himself shake. He wanted Emily.

"I'm going home now," the meek tremulous words were loud in the quiet. The Void simply nodded, a sad smile on his face.

" **Tell your woman I say hello,** " it stood up, staring off into the distance. " **Oh, and Athanasius?** " it turned to face him, pale eyes boring into his soul. " **Do not be a stranger.** "

* * *

Greta sneezed hard into her final clean hankie. Damn this cold! Yesterday things seemed to be going fine but today her head felt like a bolder and looking at even dim lights caused her congested head to pound. Sister Mary had immediately sent her back to her room when she showed up to work in Storage, commanding her to rest and perhaps try burning these herbs in her incense burner? So here she was, sneezing her brains out in bed while her head felt no less congested. Ugh.

At least she had some entertainment via that strange book left in Storage on the day that strange girl came crashing in. That Gnaeus Valens Salvius must have been really really old, because in all his writings on the many different gods floating about, he never once mentioned the Outsider or even the Void. Greta lowered her hankie, trying to imagine the world without the Outsider or the Void to blame for strange happenings. Would natural philosophy explain everything, or will people just make up new gods and spirits to worship and twist?

A sudden bright flash of light threw Greta out of her thoughts and momentarily blinded her. She sneezed again, missing her hankie entirely much to her annoyance.

"Greta!" that was Elanor's voice, sounding uncharacteristically distressed. Finally, the light faded, and Greta could see the star, sitting at the foot of her bed crying. "Greta, I've done something bad."

"Alright Elanor," Greta closed her book and placed it on the nightstand. "Just take a deep breath and tell me what is wrong."

She sniffed miserably, fat teardrops running down her cheeks and steaming up into nothingness. "I was trying to get to the bottom of what exactly happened to the Outsider to make him a proper god, trying to figure out what that magic was that bound him that you and Emily broke, but I think I just got us both in really deep trouble."

"Oh dear," Greta murmured. This was not sounding good. Was her life in danger; was Emily's life in danger? She hoped neither were the case. "What exactly did you find?"

"Well," Elanor sniffled, twiddling her thumbs. "I'm actually not supposed to talk to humans. No star is. I didn't think anybody would notice me popping down and blessing you guys, but since strange things outside the laws of nature and physics have been happening here, the local council leader I work under has been a lot more vigilant."

"Council?" Greta frowned. "Is this part of your star bureaucracy?"

She nodded, tears now not falling so frequently. "His name is Thaddeus, and he's a stickler for rule-following. I have to be careful when I come down here or even look at the planet for too long because he's now suspicious of every star that was monitoring the place."

"Alright," this was confusing. "I'm a little lost. What's so scary about Thaddeus?"

There was a beat of silence. Elanor took a deep breath, her eyes barely glowing.

"You know how I told you that aren't supposed to be gods around?"

Greta nodded, encouraging her to talk.

"Well," continued Elanor, her voice quiet. "All I knew before today was that they nearly broke the world so we got rid of them. I knew only one planet that was allowed to have the laws of nature and physics broken was this planet. That's why I was so excited to be posted to keep track of its time and laws, the record its music. I was always told to fear the Void; that it had a representative but we were never meant to meet it. We were above that. After we freed the Outsider from that strange magic I found myself wanting more answers. What was that that bound him? Who cast it, and where did it come from? So I dug for answers, and they all pointed to the past. But Thaddeus doesn't like talking about the past. He says it distracts us from the present. But why do we keep such records if we aren't meant to look at them!"

"Here, here!" muttered Greta.

"When Thaddeus caught me poking around the records he threatened to remove me from my post," frustration grew on Elanor's face. "It was a warning, but a threat I have seen him carry out before. But that just made me want to know more what he was hiding."

"Was he hiding anything?" Greta asked quietly, too interest by the possible conspiracy to leave the question unasked.

Elanor shrugged. "Other than the past, it doesn't really seem like anything. I learned slowly how the Outsider wasn't a god, how he was a concession to the Void on the stars' behalf. Apparently, the Void was the source of the gods' powers, so it was to blame for the gods' misdeeds or something like that. I passed that information on to the Outsider, but he didn't seem to know about it. It makes sense, why would the Void talk about past failures? I took him with me to meet with the oldest star I know, Methuselah, so we both could learn about the truth. But by doing that, I got him in trouble with the Void, and while Methuselah is senile he still might blab to Thaddeus about that meeting."

The two of them sat quietly for a moment, digesting the information. After a while, Greta finally spoke.

"Elanor, I get the feeling that while the Void might be scary, the Outsider isn't going to have anything seriously bad happen to him because it is mad. Emily told me she met it, and it chose to keep her safe and alive as a way to keep the Outsider happy. There are reasons to hide the past. While I don't really agree with any of them, the Void was probably keeping him uninformed to keep him safe."

"I guessed that," Elanor replied softly. "But hearing you say that relieves me a bit. It is good to know we do not have to be worried about the Void's wrath. But I am worried about Thaddeus. He hates magic, that uncontrollable unpredictable force. It is, after all, the ultimate rule breaker. It comes from something that was long locked in the Void but with the Outsider's ascension the barrier keeping it all in broke. Gods used that force to eat planets and kill stars. When he gets a whiff that it's out he's going to panic."

So that perhaps explains the abundance of mythical creatures popping up across the Isles. But that was beside the point right now.

"What do you think he will do?"

"Repeat history I suppose," a sad smile crossed Elanor's face. "Stop the leak of magic out of the Void, expunge it from the world mundane, and kill all the gods. He doesn't have the power to do it by himself but he has some friends in high places, and they can twist the Void's arm so it has to help."

Great, just fantastic. The Outsider had someone out to kill him and he didn't even know it yet. Not to mention they would likely kill Emily and their child "just in case". What a world they were living in now. "While this is absolutely terrible for the Outsider and Emily, at least they aren't pissed off about you giving me and my sisters your powers," Greta offered an awkward smile.

That pulled a laugh from Elanor. "Look at you, looking on the bright side of things! That is indeed true. On the positive side, we stars move rather slowly so we might have anywhere between ten to twenty years to figure this out. I don't know, maybe things will turn out alright?"

Greta smiled. "Maybe things will turn out alright."

Elanor brightened up, laughing briefly again before a soft smile crossed her face. "Thank you, Greta, for being a good friend."

Greta waved her off, feeling her face flush. "It's the least I could do. Besides, it's good to talk about things, especially important things like this."

The star nodded, relaxing where she sat. "Speaking of talking about things, the Void mentioned the Outsider having… offspring?"

"Oh, yes. Emily is pregnant," Greta tried not to wince saying that. It wasn't her information to share but at the same time, it didn't feel wrong to tell Elanor.

Elanor blinked, confusion fully taking ahold on her dark face. "Okay, but what does Emily have to do with the Outsider's offspring?"

Greta felt her jaw drop. This could not be happening right now. "Emily is going to be the mother of the Outsider's child."

She tried to leave it there, hoping, praying that Elanor would understand. But alas, she did not.

"How?"

Holgar preserve her she is actually going to have to teach a star about the birds and the bees. This is not what Greta had signed up for. "Elanor, do you know what sex is?"

"Yes," she replied promptly. "It is when two women or two men become aroused and-"

"Wait wait wait," Greta cut her off with a wince. "You're technically right, but that's not the type of sex where babies are made."

There was a long pause as gears seemed to turn in Elanor's head, then her jaw dropped in shock.

"SEX MAKES BABIES?"

"Yes, if a man and a woman with the right parts do it," said Greta, hoping against all hope that was the last thing she needed to say.

Elanor looked around the room in astonishment, utterly silent for a long moment. "So that's where human offspring comes from! A man has sex with a woman! That's amazing."

"That's the miracle of life," Greta drawled. "How do stars reproduce?"

"Eh, interstellar matter compresses and fuses and poof! Here we are," Elanor cheerfully replied. "It takes a _really_ long time for it to happen though, and in turn, we also live a really long time. Isn't life amazing?"

"It sure is," Greta smiled.

"Ok, I have to get going," Elanor got to her feet. "Thank you for listening to me talk and teaching me where human babies come from!"

"It was no trouble," she gave the star a wave. "Thank you for coming to me, and stay safe out there."

"You too," declared Elanor earnestly. Then with a bright burst of light, she vanished.

Immediately Greta rushed over to her desk, grabbing a notebook and a pen. She needed to make sure all she had just learned was written down.

* * *

Emily yawned as she entered her bedroom, exhaustion catching up to her. The lights were low, their yellow glow muted puddles barely illuminating beyond their sconces. The fire, however, burned brightly, throwing a long shadow across the floor and onto the bed.

"So you are back," she said fondly, walking over to the Outsider. He was sitting cross-legged upon a strange creature's chestnut fur, his chest bare and bandages gone. As she reached his side he immediately reached up to her, dark eyes begging for her to join him. Emily smiled and sat next to the Outsider, his left arm wrapping around her waist as he buried his face into her neck. Not for the first time did Emily curse her habit of wearing a scarf. She so did enjoy when he kissed her there. "What did you see out there?" she murmured.

His sigh was heavy, hot breath cutting through the soft wool. "I went to Morley to contemplate my mistakes, and there Elanor found me. She took me to see this star, who told me all about gods and universes and other uselessly mind-melting junk."

"Gods and universes?" Emily slung her arm around his shoulders, happy to hold him close.

"Things that are not relevant to anything but long resolved events," he shifted his head, and she found herself resting hers atop his. She hummed.

"But are you not a god?"

The warm crackle of the fire filled the long silence that followed, its light dancing on the floorboards and fur before her. The Outsider was tense beneath her touch, seeming to await some revelation. Then all at once, he relaxed.

"I… I do not know what I am," he whispered plaintively. "I was a human once, my name was Athanasius. But that was severed from me, my body alongside it. I became the Outsider, neither god nor man. Something changed, yet I am still the Outsider, that is how I see myself."

"Perhaps you are god and man," Emily said softly, her gaze fixed on the burning logs. "To me, you are both the Outsider and Owen in equal measure, two names that describe the same person in equally."

"Perhaps," the word was said in a breath. "I am beginning to question my purpose; my long-term purpose that is. Right now I have many options, but fifty years from now, a hundred? I am not necessary."

Emily squeezed his shoulder, his skin cool beneath her fingers. "One does not need to be necessary to exist or find purpose. Some people have argued that an Empress is not necessary to rule the Empire, thus in their eyes, I needn't exist the way I do now. I could be replaced by anyone if Parliament saw fit, dismissed to live my life like anyone else. Then I would need to find a new purpose, as the grand scheme of things would find me unnecessary. Perhaps in my new existence and my newfound purpose, I would make myself necessary, even if it is only to one person, one institution, one thing."

The Outsider said nothing, only a tired sigh issuing from his lips. He sounded so exhausted, and Emily could not blame him. It was wearying to look so far into the future, to attempt to plan for something that may or may not happen. Not to mention that he did not have the release of death- only a lonely eternity. Oh Void, how odd it felt to think of dying as selfish. The Outsider never did ask her to join him in immortality, which in its own way would be selfish. This felt like a conversation she should have Greta and Corvo rather than put the Outsider on the spot. Besides, might as well turn the subject to something lighter.

"If our child is a son, do you think Athanasius would be a good name for him?"

A beat later and the Outsider began to cackle with laughter, his whole body shaking with mirth.

"The poor boy!" he exclaimed as he regained control of his breath, shifting to sit upright, arm still around her waist. "Based on the meaning of the name I would not be surprised if it was bestowed upon me as a joke! It means 'not-death' or 'immortal' if you wish more for elegance in the meaning. It was the name of at least two of the old priests in the city, so even without the jest I cannot see a child bearing it."

"Oh?" Emily said with curiosity. "Why would the name be a jest?"

"In all my youthful brilliance I would do many dangerous things for food and coin," he proclaimed with gleeful self-mockery. "If I could pin the moment where I firmly earned the name, it was probably when thirteen year-old me thought it would be a great idea to wrestle the sacred bull after the street gang I ran with stole it. And, for context, wrestling was only proper if both opponents were fully naked."

The absurd mental image was like a feather to her feet. Emily couldn't hold back her laughter, gazing at him with unhindered surprise. "How did that go?"

He raised his eyebrows, grinning. "The bull cut loose and ran its way back home with me hanging around its neck. Now, stealing the bull was a crime punishable by death, and let's say how the bull returned was in less than ideal conditions. I was also in similarly terrible conditions, which perhaps made my fake story of saving the bull from a rival gang a little more believable."

"So let me guess," Emily grinned, holding back a giggle. "It is not surviving a wrestling match with a bull that earned you the nickname, but running into its keepers, and living to tell the tale."

"They couldn't believe it!" the Outsider cried with a laugh. "The bull's keepers let me stay in the stable for the night and gave me some bread and moldy cheese as well as an old tunic. I hung around in the area for a few days so it certainly looked like I was dead. Ajax and his company screamed like an old woman when they saw me again! After that, they started calling me Athanasius, and it stuck."

Emily chuckled, imagining burly gangsters jumping into each other's arms, shrieking as the Outsider approached them. "What did they call you before that?"

"Glaukopis," he pulled one of his legs out from beneath the other, stretching it out before him. "It means bright-eyed, usually in association with grey eyes. But it's more of an epitaph than a proper name, so earning a proper name meant a lot to me."

"That's why the Void portrays you with grey eyes!" Emily cried, rather excited. "It is a rather striking contrast from your eyes right now."

The Outsider blinked owlishly, and then his jaw dropped. "Oh! That certainly explains that. You are right, it is quite the contrast."

"You were certainly always a person with striking eyes," Emily declared fondly. "It would be nice for our child to have your eyes."

He hummed, seeming to consider it. "If only pure black eyes wouldn't fill people with suspicion and panic. And grey eyes are lost to me forever. No, it's better that they would get your pretty eyes."

"I've seen you go about without anything disguising your eyes and yet nobody seems to take issue," Emily teased lightly.

Instead of responding quickly with light wit, the Outsider became thoughtful. "They don't expect to see me with pure black eyes so they don't." He shrugged carelessly. "I suspect that they see something unnatural in my eyes, so it is wise to keep them covered from time to time. But so far, they don't see me as I really am."

Emily nodded, a question blooming in her mind. It did not feel right to ask it, yet she had to ask it if only to put her mind at rest.

"How do I know that I'm seeing the real you?" It came out as a vulnerable whisper.

A sort of bittersweet look crossed the Outsider's face. "And I'm not wearing some body that is not my true self? I don't know how to prove for certain that what you see is how I really look. But do know this- you see me how I see myself, though perhaps your mind has made me out to be more handsome than I actually am."

Emily lightly shoved him, a smile coming to her lips. "Don't put yourself down; you're a very beautiful person."

He blushed at the compliment, shyly smiling but with earnest affection alight in his eyes. "I feel safe to be myself around you; I want to show you my true self."

Warmth bloomed in her chest and across her face. Void, she loved this man. "And I too feel safe to be myself around you, you beautiful, beautiful man."

He turned redder and grinned, and began showing her with kisses. Emily happily returned them, shedding her jacket, waistcoat, and shirt in an effort to match his level of clothing. He pulled away briefly, gently removing the scarf from around her neck, love and lust burning together in his black eyes as she shed the last of her garments covering the top of her.

"Gods, Emily," he whispered hoarsely.

She leaned in close and gave him a long and slow kiss. But before he could deepen it she broke it, waiting just a hair's breadth from his lips.

"Now fuck me into this hide like you mean it."

So they spent the rest of the night, not worrying about gods or universes, or names or true selves. They were simply content to enjoy the person they were with.


	46. Chapter 45: Sailing Winter Seas

##  Chapter 45: Sailing Winter Seas

A sharp wind rolled down into the mouth of the Wrenhaven from the sea, cutting through the thick coat Emily wore and tugging at the loose locks of her hair.  She hugged her chest, putting her hands under her armpits and suppressing a shiver.  The Outsider stood close beside her, a thick scarf wrapped around his face and head and hands shoved into his pockets.  Together they leaned against the upper cabin wall, heat barely radiating through the metal.  The other passengers were below deck, hiding from the piercing cold.  Emily had no desire to mingle with them in the cloying warmth, her stomach doing unpleasant flips the moment she stepped below decks. While the cold was equally unpleasant, at least it did not induce nausea. 

“Are you guys really going to stand out here for the entire journey?”

Emily turned her head to see a shivering Juniper, her ratty layers fluttering in the breeze, purple hair barely visible underneath the wool fisherman’s cap.  Emily flashed a small smile at her.  She didn’t know much about the girl, but she seemed nice enough.

“Probably not. I just feel better outside than I do below decks,” she confessed.

“And I will stay with Emily,” the Outsider added, his voice slightly muffled by the scarf that covered his nose and mouth.  His dark glasses fogged up, going from black to grey.

Juniper looked at the two of them as if they presented a puzzle she had to solve.  She crossed her arms, fingertips poking out of holes in her worn gloves, and tilted her head.

“But aren’t you guys cold?”

Emily shrugged. “A little, but is preferable to be here right now.”  She glanced over at the Outsider, who seemed to catch her eye. 

“Freezing,” he replied bluntly to Juniper.

Almost immediately Emily felt badly.  She reached out and put a hand on his arm.

“You don’t need to stay up here with me.”

A laugh came out of him and he playfully leaned in her direction. “And leave you alone and unguarded?  Corvo would have my guts for garters!”

Juniper burst out into a forced laugh, disbelief flashing in her eyes. “Really?”

From the way the Outsider huffed, Emily guessed he was rolling his eyes.  It was impossible to tell for certain due to his glasses, which once again fogged up with his breath.

“You underestimate the abilities of Corvo Attano,” there was a bit of a bite in his tone. “As well as my desire to see Emily safe.”

The final remark seemed to take Juniper aback, her wide eyes blinking at the two of them. “Wait,” she pulled out a finger, pointing between the two of them. “You guys are friends?”

“Of course we are friends!” Emily said with a laugh. “Why else would he be here?”

“Well,” Juniper inched forward, her tone now conspiring. “You’re one of his Marked and he is just watching you.”

“Oh, I am doing far more than watching,” there was something teasing in just how cool and even his voice was.  Emily could not help but smirk and make eye contact, leaning onto his shoulder.  Juniper stood back, drinking in the sight before her, breath coming out in small clouds.

“Wow. I didn’t realize you both were good friends,” her tone was exceedingly thoughtful, then her eyes slid over to Emily. “I didn’t think he did friends, ya know?”

The Outsider made a noise of annoyance and grumbled a curse in his cradle tongue.  The boat rocked steadily and the wind blew, gently yet persistently. Across the grey sea was a dark outline of Gristol’s coast, the occasional passing ship breaking the horizon line.  So few were out on this grey winter day.

Juniper sighed, and strolled over to the other side of Emily, planting herself against the wall beside her.

“There is someone really strange on the ship with us,” she said, borrowing her face. “Well, not just one person but four.  And I don’t really feel safe hanging out in the cabin with them.”

“Oh?” Emily linked her arm with the Outsider’s, taking comfort in his steadiness as the rocking of the boat worsened the feeling in her stomach.

“There are two Blind Sisters, one wearing a purple blindfold and the other wearing a red one. Blind sisters are nice enough but these ones just seem to… I dunno, radiate energy?” Juniper adjusted the ragged plaid scarf around her neck. “As for the other two, well first off they both look like they just wrapped themselves in drapes and blankets and called it a day. The younger one seems fine, but a little... hollow?  So did the super scary older woman, she had this scar across her face and these cold, cold blue eyes.”

A small frown appeared on Emily’s face. The older woman Juniper was afraid of was definitely Jane Willoughby.  The younger one in the strange robes… Emily was reminded of that petitioner months ago, what was her name?  It does not matter. As for the Blind sisters, what would the odds be that she knew them?

She breathed in deeply and slowly, appreciating the sharp bite of the cold sea as it banished her nausea. Of course today had to be the day it revisited her. Emily could not wait for it to go away for good.

***

They had stood out there for an hour and half, finally succumbing to the cold when Emily could feel both Juniper and the Outsider shivering as they both leaned on her.  Oh well, she was also numb with the cold, and her fickle stomach was screaming for food.  So the three of them sat at a small table in the café, the Outsider downing nearly three bowls of chowder, tea left untouched, steaming gently.  Juniper was neatly eating a meat pie, her manners surprisingly good for a former low-level gang member. Emily nursed her bowl of chicken broth and crackers, her stomach behaving for now.  She could not help but envy the Outsider as he finished his third bowl and immediately jumped to a fourth bowl.

“Hey Emily,” Juniper leaned over, her voice a whisper. “Does he always eat this much food?”

Emily shrugged. “More or less.”

“How is he not fat?”

Emily could not help but give her a sharp look, the girl’s poor manners leaving a bad taste in her mouth. The Outsider cleared his throat, bowl still in hand.

“Daniels, the fact you would even ask that means you are far more stupid than I originally thought.”

Juniper’s jaw dropped and anger bloomed on her face. “Hey! It is a perfectly valid question.”

“No, it is an ill-mannered question,” the Outsider put down the bowl, his voice knife-sharp.

“I’m not getting lectured on manners from somebody who drinks chowder straight out of the bowl,” Juniper snapped back, folding her arms.

“Well excuse me for living my best life,” he replied primly, taking a long sip from the teacup.  Emily snorted into her bowl, half tempted to drink straight out of it like he did.  That coaxed a fond smile out of him.

“Are you feeling any better? You certainly look less green around the gills.”

Emily nodded, deciding to let her more eager consumption of her soup answer his question.

“Oh shit, are you seasick?” Juniper immediately began to dig through her pockets. “I have an anti-seasickness bonecharm in here somewhere, you can totally have it if you want it.”

Emily immediately waved her off, touched by her kindness. “Oh no that’s alright!”

“Are you sure?” the girl opened her coat and reached into yet another pocket, a touch of concern on her face. “Feeling like you’re gonna toss cookies any time you open your mouth can’t be fun.”

Juniper’s turn of phrase was strangely hilarious to Emily; she could not help but laugh. In the corner of her eye, she could see the Outsider yanking several materials from his pocket and laying them out on the table. Curious, Emily turned to him and he shot an apologetic smile at her.

“I should have replaced the bonecharm you lost, and I have failed to do so.  This might not be as effective but it should help.”

“You really do not have to do that!” Emily felt her cheeks warm, really touched that the Outsider was going out of his way to try and help her.

He gave her a teasing smile, a dried flower, and scrap of bone in his hands. “Ah, I might not have to do it, but I want to.”

Charmed, Emily silently watched him work on the bonecharm.  Juniper too went silent, watching him work as she leaned forward, chin in hands and elbows on the table.   The Outsider was utterly engrossed in his work, flicking his hands and twitching his fingers to conjure an orb of boiling water, then dropped the bone, the dried flower and other strange materials into it.  Slowly, the hissing, bubbling orb turned a shade of dark yellow, shrinking as more and more steam emanated from it.  The Outsider hummed a strange tune, a pretty little whittling knife sliding out of his sleeve and into his hand. In the other he held a strange and wonderful-smelling root, and with practiced ease he began to slice it, flicking the slivers into the orb. 

A small crowd began to gather around them, clearly entranced by the scene.  Emily could not blame them.  The Outsider paid his audience no heed, after a minute dissipating the small orb with a wave of his hand, plucking the dark yellow scrap of bone from the air.   With deft fingers he immediately began to shape it. It was rather soothing to watch shards slough away, clattering onto the table.  

“Erhem, excuse me?” it was a rather portly man of middling age who had just cleared his throat. “Are you possibly selling bonecharms?”

“That depends,” the Outsider replied, still focused on the charm in his hands. “I can only make three bonecharms right now.  One preventing seasickness, one that increases your chances of getting money on the ground, and finally, one that makes any food taste good."

The portly man made a noise of disappointment and left.  Several people around him left, but many remained, likely curious to see how other bonecharms were made.

Juniper immediately perked up. “Oooo, can I have the money one?”

“Three glis glis,” he finished the charm with one more slice and handed it to Emily. As soon as she touched it she felt even better. 

“The void is a glis glis?” Juniper asked, baffled. “Some type of Pandyssian fruit?”

“It is a type of mouse, they are apparently delicious when roasted and dipped in honey,” a wistful look appeared on the Outsider’s face.   Emily made a note to try and procure the animals for him.  Hopefully, it was easy to find.

Juniper rolled her eyes. “Just take my money, I’m not up for bartering.”

“Fine,” he held out his hand. “10 coins.”

***

An hour had passed and finally everyone who asked for a bonecharm received it.  Emily breathed a sigh of relief, glad that there were not so many eyes on them anymore.  The Outsider looked rather tired, slumped back in his chair, hands limp. A large pile of bone shards competed with the stacked chowder bowls for space on the table before him. Juniper had disappeared a while ago, likely to find a bathroom. Emily mutely stared out across the cabin, eyes fixed on the grey windows.  Her eyes caught the gaze of a rather familiar pair of icy blue ones.  It was Jane Willoughby, and next to her was her wide-eyed dark-skinned daughter.

Jane smiled at her and gave a wave.  Uncertain with what exactly to do, Emily gave a small wave back.  Immediately Jane began to approach them, her daughter reluctantly following, looking frightened.

“Dear Empress, it is a pleasant surprise to find you here,” Jane greeted, a cheerful smile on her scarred face. 

“I should say the same,” Emily replied, wishing to be polite.  “Have a seat.”

Jane took the seat next to her, leaving her daughter to take the seat next to the Outsider.  The girl shrunk away from him as if she knew who exactly he was.  Jane was either oblivious or heedless of her fear because she leaned forward to stare at the Outsider.

“So, you must be Owen Pharmakós!”

The Outsider pulled himself upright, a wary expression on his face. “Yes, and you are?”

“I’m- ” her words were cut off by the girl desperately grabbing at her robes and crying out:

“Mother don’t! Don’t give him your name!”

Emily tried and failed to hide her surprise, glancing over to the Outsider. He shrugged at her, a mildly exasperated look on his face.

“What do you mean Monica?” Jane said to her daughter, a lost expression on her face.

Monica’s eyes darted between Jane, the Outsider, and Emily.  Her voice lowered, she whispered:

“Mr. Pharmakós is not a human, he is the Outsider.”

Emily would never have predicted the expression of sheer delight on Jane’s face.  The Outsider as well looked taken aback. The woman leaned forward, eyes glinting.

“This has to be the best news I have heard in years!” there was a clinical sharpness on her face that filled Emily with unease. “Do tell me, Owen, what is your reproductive history?”

Monica buried her face in her hands, mortified. “Oh Void mom, why did you say that?”

Emily felt her mouth fall open and then close when words failed to come.  What kind of person would ask such a delicate yet crude thing?  Then again, the woman was uncomfortably interested in her relationship with the Outsider. Almost as if they were a pair of fascinating animals.  The thought filled Emily with disgust.

The Outsider folded his hands under his nose and let out a long sigh, eye closed behind his glasses. Finally, he opened his eyes and pointed his folded hands at her.

“Do tell me, what are you to me that you think you can even ask me such a question?”

Jane’s face went from cheerfully expectant to dumbfounded. “I’m sorry?”

“Who. Do. You. Think. You. Are. To. Me?” The Outsider spoke as if he was talking to a child.

“Ah, a friend?” she hedged.  From the dark feral expression on his face, Emily guessed she chose poorly.

“No, to me you are a rude and insubordinate stranger.  Push my boundaries again and you will regret it. Understand?”

Emily tried to swallow her smile in an effort to be polite.  Monica was looking at her between her fingers, seeming to beg for forgiveness. The Outsider watched the apprehensive and ashamed Jane, waiting expectantly for a response.

“Owen? Is that you?” 

Making their way across the cabin was Hope and Eileen.  The two were wearing colorful blindfolds, but that did not hinder then in any way.   Monica immediately looked up over to them, hope shining in her eyes.

“Praise be, you both are here! My mother has gravely insulted the Outsider.”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Hope held up her hands. “What do you mean that Jane has insulted _the Outsider_? How?”

“She asked him a very personal question that she had no right to ask,” Emily answered.

The two Sisters seemed to freeze for a moment, and then Eileen lifted up her purple blindfold, peering at her. 

“Empress? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Why, traveling to Bastillian of course.  What are you two doing here?”

Eileen put her blindfold back in place, looking rather sheepish. “We’re escorting Jane Willoughby and her daughter home, as well as checking up with our sisters in Bastillian. I did not think you traveled on standard ships like these.”

Emily instinctively waved them off, forgetting they were blindfolded. “It is alright.”

She was going to say more, but Juniper suddenly burst into the cabin, her eyes wide with fear.  She raised her arm, pointing to the starboard side.

“THERE’S A GIANT FUCKING SQUID OUT THERE!”

As soon as she said that, the largest tentacle Emily had ever seen in her life slammed onto the side of the ship, knocking everyone off balance and more than a few people out of their chairs. The dishes and bone shards clattered off the table, which was fortunately bolted to the floor. Emily braced herself against it, trying not to fall to the ground.  The Outsider immediately leaped to his feet and grasped her arm.

“We need to get off this ship,” his voice was even, but there was apprehension in it. Around them people were frozen, their eyes wide with fear.  The ship shook again, another tentacle attacking them.  Hope and Eileen were looking at her expectantly.  Somebody needed to take charge, that somebody being her.

“Everyone, gather your things and get to the upper cabin!” she ordered. “If you have weapons come with me.”

That seemed to shake people out of their paralyzed state. Immediately the cabin exploded in activity, people gathering their things, their travel partners, and their families.  Emily immediately headed to the exit, the Outsider and the others following behind.

“So what’s the plan?” cried Juniper as the ship shuddered again, throwing them against the walls of the narrow stairwell.

“Destroy the tentacles, and if we cannot, keep it occupied so we can evacuate the ship,” Emily hoped that plan would work.  If not she was at a loss for what they could do.

“We’ll have to move quickly,” the Outsider added. “Krakens break ships.”

“You’re telling me we’re up against a fucking **KRAKEN**?!” Juniper’s voice nearly broke with shock.

Nobody responded to her. Emily grabbed the pistol at her hip, removing the safety as she opened the door out to the deck.  Sailors were running around, shooting into the thick tentacles with little success. One by one they crept out, Emily darting to take cover behind large coils of ropes. The Outsider joined her.  Hope strode straight past them, her two pistols in hand and a wide grin on her face.

“I’ve been hoping to try these babies out!” she cried, lifting them up and taking aim at a nearby tentacle.  Her right hand glowed under her thin wool gloves, and she squeezed the trigger.

A series of beams of red light shot out of the pistol’s muzzle, burning a hole into the tentacle. She immediately did it again and again, her grin growing wider and wider.  Even with the damage, the tentacles did not cease their attack.  Eileen did not keep her distance like her sister. Instead, she darted forwards and laid her hand on another tentacle.

“What is she thinking!”

Before Emily could ask what the Outsider meant by that, he scooped her up and hovered a good distance off the deck. A ripple of electricity flowed through the giant tentacle- and through the ship. The sailors, Hope, and Juniper yelped in pain as they got shocked.  Eileen winced.

“Sorry!”

“Hey Owen!” yelled Hope. “Help us the FUCK out!”

The Outsider set Emily down, an uncertain look on his face. “What do you think I should do?”

Emily shrugged. “Teleport it away, impale it with something, turn it into something else, summon whales to eat it?  You know your abilities better than I do. Just try not to damage the ship.”

He nodded, expression somewhat abashed. He looked over his shoulder. “Juniper-”

“Yeah yeah, guard the Empress, make sure she doesn’t get hurt, die, I know the drill,”  the girl was pushing forward an old fashioned cannon, and next to it was a neatly stacked pile of cannon balls. “Feel free to use this if you know how.”

A spark appeared in the Outsider’s eye. Without an extra word, he picked up two of the cannon balls and ran off. 

“So what are you going to do Empress?” Juniper was looking around them, very nervous.

Emily reached out with her left hand, a small cloud of mist pooling and churning just a ways away.  The Mark glowed through the leather of her glove, and with a gesture of her hand, a doppelgänger emerged from the cloud. Juniper fell back onto the deck with a thud.

“What the fuck! Since when could you do that?”

“Since the coup,” Emily replied, humoring the girl as she summoned another doppelgänger.  Both darted off to deal with the kraken.  “Do you have any spring razors?”

Juniper’s face screwed up, and she rifled through one of her inside pockets before yanking out a pouch. “This should have them.”

She dumped its contents onto the deck.  At first, Emily thought they were little pills, but Juniper snapped her fingers and seven spring razors popped up. Juniper grinned at her.

“I’ve got all sorts of things on me, they’re just mighty small!”

Emily carefully gathered up the weapons, glad she had this outfit made to hold such things. “Juniper, I want you to mind the other passengers and the crew.  If you can, try to snipe the Kraken a bit.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I can’t let you go out and fight!” her eyes were huge, and her tan skin blanched. “What if you get knocked off the ship?”

“I will be fine,” Emily reassured her. “Make sure the others will be as well.”

Ignoring the sputtering Juniper she vaulted over ropes and joined the fight.  There were two nearly severed tentacles on either side of the boat, and at least two more making their way across from port to starboard.  Eileen, Hope, and a sailor were wailing on one, her doppelgängers on the other.  The Outsider was nowhere to be seen.  

Towards the bow she could see another, rising out of the grey water towards the deck. That was hers.  Emily closed the gap quickly.  The tentacle stood tall off the prow, wiggling around as if feeling around for something.  That something was the ship.  She took one of the spring razers out, holding it in her left hand. She hoped that her aim was true.

Emily hurled the spring razor at the tentacle. Like a nail pulled by a magnet, it landed right at the base, just above the water.  Almost immediately, it sprung.   Emily ran away from bow as the water and ship shook with an angry, pained roar.  Five more tentacles shot out of the water and grasped the sides of the ship.  Emily could not help but feel deep irritation along some sort of feral pleasure.  She succeeded in wounding it, so now it must take them seriously.

Six spring razors, five tentacles. The odds were in her favor.

She moved fast, darting forward to attack the nearest two.   Her aim must have been blessed as each one landed. Their grip weakened, the metal of the ship groaning.

“What are you doing?” yelled Hope.

“Spring razors!” Emily slid past, focused on her next target.

“I think all you’re doing is pissing it off!” a sailor shouted.

Pissing it off? Maybe so, but she was also weakening it.  Even over the noise of the waves and the groans of the Kraken she could hear the spring razors go off.  It was working.

Then the ship shifted.

Emily felt the bow behind her tilt upwards. She felt herself begin to slide alongside crates, the deck slick with seawater and Kraken blood.   Something was going wrong.

“It’s got the stern of the ship!” screamed Eileen. “We have to get people out of here!”

“How?” she grit her teeth in frustration.

“Leave it to the sailors!” Hope ran past, skillfully firing her pistols down into the wounded tentacles. “Where the Void is the fucking Outsider?!”

A sudden, furious scream split the air, and the ship fell forward.  Emily could hear the metal smack the water as a wave slammed into the prow, feel the cold water flow over her boots and splatter her coat.  Someone had caused the kraken to let go. 

But down towards the stern, she saw movement.  A tentacle shot straight up, holding something high over the wheelhouse, nearly as tall as the mast in the back. Then, like a star falling to earth, the Outsider was slammed back first into the tall iron crate beside her.

All of a sudden everything sounded far too quiet.  Her vision was ringed with black, she couldn’t feel anything.  Her hands felt wet, why were they wet? They were warm too- that can’t be right. It is winter, isn’t it?  Her knees were wet and cold, her hands were wet and warm.  She held something, no, someone, close to her chest.  The scent of iron burned in her nostrils.

“PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!”

An ashen-faced Juniper was standing in front of her.  Emily could feel the sting on her cheek where she had been slapped. Her throat was sore, like she had been screaming for a long time.  The last time she had been like that, that was when mother was murdered. She knew who she was holding against her, but even so, Emily could not bear to look down.

“We need to get off this boat, it’s a lost cause,” pity filled the girl's voice.  “One of the sailors told me the kraken yanked of the propeller, and it is still coming for more.  Can you carry him, or do you need help?”

Emily shook her head. “No, I’ve got him.”

***

The lifeboats were not made for long trips in the open sea.  It was fortunate that cold waters were calm, the waves barely lashing the edges of the boat.  The salty wind bit harshly at everyone in the open boat, but Emily barely noticed it.  She stared down at the Outsider’s pale face as his head rested upon her lap.  It helped to think he was only sleeping as she pet his hair, his dark eyes gently closed.  It helped not to think of the bloody mess beneath his coat, it helped not to think of the pain he was in.

“Emily?”

Hope reached out to touch her shoulder, blue eyes warm with sympathy and kindness. “He’ll be ok.  Before you know it he’ll be up and cursing the Void.”

Emily forced a smile to her lips, trying to show how much Hope’s words meant to her.

“Phst, I’m less worried about Owen here and more about us,” Juniper grumbled. “We’re still a long fucking way from coast, I’m on my last thing of whale oil and that can’t go to all 10 fucking lifeboats. It’s three hours away from sunset, and we’re all gonna freeze to death!”

“Oh will you quit your whining!” Eileen snapped. “Let the Empress be worried about Owen in peace.  We’ll figure something out.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Juniper repeated in a mocking voice. “I’ve been doing all the heavy lifting here! Who has all the whale oil? Me! Who has all the blankets? Me! Who made sure everyone had a boat to get into? ME!”

“Well, what do you want to happen?” Eileen asked tartly.

“I don’t know, maybe get a bunch of whales to pull us into port before sundown? To not be in the goddamn cold?” Juniper rearranged the blanket around her. “Just anything that gets us out of here!”

Emily returned her gaze back down to the Outsider, feeling even more upset than before.  As miserable Juniper was, she also had a point.  They couldn’t stay drifting in the sea until some other ship picked them up.  As numb as she felt, the cold was still getting to her.  Not to mention a lifeboat in the winter sea was not the best place to recuperate from a serious injury.  She caressed his face, hating just how powerless she was.

“Hey Juniper, you might get your wish,” Hope said warily. “I see whales approaching us.”

Indeed, coming in from the west was a small pod. Emily counted the spouts- one, two, and three, all the way up to nine.  She could hear, slowly getting louder, a cheerful clicking call.

“Holy shit,” breathed a sailor towards the back of the lifeboat. “I’ve never seen so many of them in my life.”

Just below the surface, Emily could see a small shadow zooming towards them. 

“Uh, guys, I think one of them is charging at us,” Hope peered over the edge alongside her, worried.

Almost as if she heard her fears, the whale calf came to a halt just before the boat and surfaced, giving the starboard a light tap.  Recognition came over Emily in a wave.

“Idyia,” the name came out in a breath, and she carefully leaned over the side to pat the sweet calf.  A very sweet noise came from her, coaxing a smile from Emily.

“Holy shit, that is fucking adorable,” Juniper said, awe in her voice. “Do you know these whales?”

“They’re the Outsider’s,” Emily replied, watching the affectionate Idyia. She could see Alkippe waiting just a ways away. 

“Perfect!” Juniper cried.  “Now all we need is for the Outsider to ask them to pull our boats.”

Emily tore her eyes off the whales to give the girl an incredulous look. “He is in no shape to ask them to do anything.”

The girl gave a groan and put her head into her hands. “Then what’s the fucking point of having these whales show up?”

“There doesn’t need to be a fucking point!” Emily yelled back. “They can do what they want!”

Eileen coughed politely. “Empress, do you think you can talk to them?”

“How?!” Emily threw her hands up, trying her best not to jostle the poor Outsider.

“Put your hand against the whale and think what you would usually say?” Eileen suggested uncertainly.  “It is worth a shot.”

Idyia bumped against the boat again, giving the cheerful chirp.  Emily sighed.

“What the Void, might as well,” she reached back down to Idyia and placed her palm flat on the calf’s skin.  _“Hi Idyia”_

_“Emily! Hi!!!”_

Emily nearly yanked her hand away in shock.  This couldn’t be happening.  She just talked to a whale.  And the whale answered!

Idyia did not seem to notice her shock as she kept prattling right along. _“Outsider said you both were going to the inlet with the cuttled fish.  Said we shouldn’t follow.  But we are pod and pod travels together, yes?”_

Emily could feel her heart swell at the sweet innocence of Idyia.  The fact that the calf considered her to be family was exceptionally touching.  But there would be time later to dwell on that.  Right now she needed to talk with Alkippe.

_“Yes, we are pod.  I am very happy you and the others are here.  Can I talk to your mother?”_

***

The first thing that came to the Outsider’s mind was that his entire chest hurt.  The second thought was that his back and legs felt like they were being stabbed with hundreds of little needles over and over.  In spite of that pain, he felt strangely comfortable.  Perhaps it was warmth of his head, and a familiar, comforting smell.  He could hear the sound of the sea, and several voices raised in song together.

“ _He shipped me on board of a whaling ship bound for the Northern Seas_

_Where the cold winds blow through the frost and snow and Karnacan rum_

_It would freeze_

_But worse to bear, I'd no weather gear for I'd spent all me money on shore_

_'twas then that I wished that I was dead and could go to sea no more_

_No more, boys, no more, go to sea no more_

_'twas then that I wished that I was dead and could go to sea no more.”_

 

The Outsider recognized one of the voices. Not quite on tune, but sweet nonetheless. That voice, with that scent… A smile rose to his face unbidden. Emily.

One of her hands cupped the side of his face, so he reached up to cover it with his.  He felt her jump a little, clearly not expecting his touch.  But almost immediately she grabbed his hand and planted a kiss on his palm.  His eyelids felt heavy, but he had to open them.  He had to see her.

“Are you alright?” the words came out with a wheeze.  Gods, his chest ached and burned.

Emily looked down at him, her lovely hair framing her face, holding his hand to her cheek. She laughed at the question, but there were tears in her eyes.

“I should be asking you that question, not you,” her voice quavered, her humor heavily tempered by relief.

“Still,” one word was all he could manage before the pain got to him.  Emily immediately put a finger to his lips.

“I am fine.  I am better now that you are back,” she stroked his hair, drawing a hum from him. “You scared me.”

A different pain twanged in his chest. He hated scaring Emily.  He should be making her feel safe, feel happy.

“Is he awake?” it was a familiar voice; it sounded like one of Greta’s Sisters.

“Yes,” Emily replied, sheer relief filling her voice.

“Wait really?” A bout of irrational irritation laced through the Outsider. Juniper sounded genuinely pleased that he was fine, well mostly fine. “Hey, can you move your legs?”

He scoffed.  Even that hurt.  What the Void happened to him?  In any case, his legs obeyed him, he pulled one up to his chest and the other straight into the air.  Pain snaked up his spine, suppressed by a sharp inhale between clenched teeth.

“Don’t push yourself!” Emily pleaded. “It is enough that you are awake!”

“Yeah yeah, no need to do anything fancy!” Juniper added, sounding a tad panicked. “I just wanted to see if you were paralyzed.  After all, you broke your back.”

“What,” the word came out of his mouth numb and flat.

“Dude, the kraken flung you into this iron crate,” Juniper continued, her voice somewhat hushed. “In my opinion, it was damn good you landed on the crate otherwise your skull would’ve been busted open like a tin of jellied eels in tomato sauce.”

Emily made a rather distressing noise of horrified revulsion.  Juniper didn’t seem to notice, as she kept on talking.

“I’m actually surprised you’ve healed enough to breathe and whatnot.  Like you still kind of smell like blood and entrails, which isn’t surprising because I swear I saw one of your ribs poking out and I thought ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if you could make a bonecharm out of your own bones?’ but it was still attached to all the muscle and blood and whatnot, plus I don’t think the Empress would appreciate me yanking a bone from you even though your chest was basically meat paste.”

“Hey purple-hair, you might want to be quiet,” the Sister warned, her tone quite chiding. “Poor Emily looks ready to throw up.”

The Outsider wanted to thank the Sister, but another wave of pain lanced through his ribs.  Next to his head he could just barely see Emily’s hand tightly clenched in the wool of her overcoat, the other likely at her mouth. 

“Huh? Wait, does gore really make you queasy? How on earth did you deal with the whole killing people then?”

Godsdamned girl.  How tasteless it was to ask such a question.

“Tell me, Daniels, how much of your idiocy is inherited?” he hissed. “Was your mother as rude as you? Did your father berate you for having a shred of manners?”

The sound of the sea filled the sudden silence.  The dim light from lanterns threw pale yellow pools on the wood of the rowboat, on the scratchy wool of the blankets. In the distance, he could hear the breath of whales.

“Well fuck me for being curious,” Juniper griped. 

“Just be quiet,” the Outsider growled. “Don’t speak until you have something practical to say.”

“It is alright,” Emily replied quietly. “She does not know any better.  We should be getting out of the boat soon, I think I see the lights of Bastillian.”


	47. Chapter 46: The Crow and the Whale

##  Chapter 46: Crow and Whale

The harbor was dark in the night, with pinpricks of lantern light breaking up the shadowy outlines of ships and docks.  It was the same for the land on both sides of the long inlet which Bastillian straddled.  The water gleamed with the light of the bright moon and stars alongside the lantern flame, its quiet roar against the shore calming. 

The whales had been released as soon as the lighthouse at the inlet’s mouth beamed bright above them.  Emily wished the sweet things farewell as they left.  Too many whalers would be about to make this place safe.  The Outsider had fallen asleep, gritting his teeth every now and then.  Emily gently brushed his hair back, wondering if waking him up would mean more pain for him, or less.  In any case the boat was now docked, and slowly people were disembarking. 

“Finally!” Juniper’s hushed excitement broke the quiet that even she knew better than to completely shatter. “I have our luggage, all shrank up, no need to thank me. Now, do you need help getting Mr. Gloomy off the boat?”

Emily shook her head. “No thank you, I have him.”  

She felt better having him in her arms.  Besides, it was not as if he was heavy or exceptionally cumbersome.  It was her responsibility to take care of him; after all, no one else would do it well.

Now they stood at the end of the dock, the Outsider’s head resting against her shoulder, his back still wet with blood.  Emily tried not to think about that too much. Nearby stood Eileen and Hope, waiting for Jane and her daughter.  Beside her Juniper had her hands in her armpits, and she stared down the long dock.

“So, what happens now?  Do we meet up with someone?”

“The Voronins should have someone waiting for us on the shore proper,” Emily replied, looking up at the illuminated strip of road climbing into the hills above. Weariness and trepidation filled her.  What was waiting for them at the Voronin estate?

She felt a tap on her shoulder.  It was Eileen.

“We will be in Bastillian until the 20th.  If you need any help, don’t hesitate to seek us out, alright?”

“Alright,” Emily nodded, touched by her kindness.

“Take care of yourself, Empress,” added Hope, leading the silent Willoughbys down the dock. 

“And you as well.”

Juniper tapped her foot, watching the quartet disappear down the dock. “So are we going to move or what?”

Emily nodded mutely and began the walk down to the shore.  Juniper followed her eagerly. 

“What are these Voronin like?  Spymaster Lurk only told me they were fancy people so I better be on my best manners.”

“I have never met them before,” Emily replied shortly, uneager for conversation.

“Wait, isn’t your job to know of all the fancy families?” sound of the girl’s feet on the ground changed from creaking wood to taps on paving stone.

“My job is the rule the Empire,” exasperation made its way into Emily’s voice. “Not keep tabs on all the rich people that live in the Isles.”

They came to a stop under a lamppost, the light making Emily feel exposed. Who was she to look for, and can she trust them?  Juniper removed a scrap of paper from her sleeve, flicking it to full size. From what Emily could see, it was the Voronin’s invitation.  The girl pointed at the family seal, prominently featured at the bottom.

“We just gotta find someone with this seal on them right?” she said confidently. “That shouldn’t be too hard.  You said they should be around the docks anyway.”

“Do not go wandering,” Emily immediately warned. “Just wait here, the Voronins expect us, so they will find us.”

Juniper gave a long-suffering groan. “C’mon! Don’t you want to get to shelter as soon as possible? Also aren’t you hungry? I’m starving!”

“We will be found faster if we stay in one spot,” Emily chided, trying not to let annoyance leak into her tone.  Juniper was right, she did was to get to shelter quickly, but not entirely for her own sake.  The Outsider may be light, but her arms were slowly beginning to tire. Not to mention that it was rather cold out.  She leaned against the lamppost, staring out at the warehouses and closed shops that lined the wharf.  Juniper, somewhat sullen, pulled out a length of cord and began to make knots with it.  People strolled past, few glancing at them as they went about their business.  The night was young, so such matters could not be too nefarious.  Emily sighed again, trying not to shiver.  How long would they have to wait?

A movement off by the street caught her eye.  Approaching them was two figures- a well-dressed young man and strange lean hound.  His walking stick made a clicking noise as it tapped along the paving stones, the tall quiet dog trotting faithfully beside him.  A low-crowned fur hat sat at an angle upon his head, the brocade trim gleaming dimly in the dark light.  His clothes were clearly Tyvian in design, even the ornate dog collar was an echo of Tyvia.  This had to be a Voronin.

“Well met, Empress Emily,” the man came to a stop before her and bowed. To her amusement, the dog bowed too. “I am Timur Voronin, and this is my borzoi, Pari.”

“Well met indeed,” Emily replied dryly. “I assume you are here to see us safely to your family estate?”

Timur nodded, his narrow grey eyes curiously investigating the Outsider.  They widened slightly when he looked down. “Empress, did you know the man in your arms is bleeding?”

“I am very well aware of it,” Emily replied curtly. “Now, can you take us to our lodgings?”

“Is this girl with you?” he pointed at Juniper, who was mercifully silent and polite.

“She is, yes,” she was tired of answering his questions. Just take them to his damn house already!

“Alright,” he beckoned them. “Follow me.”

***

The Outsider opened his eyes to a wall of velvet.  It was a dark, bloody red with gleams for gold, expensive, clean.  And if he was not mistaken, he was bleeding all over it.   He took a shallow breath, his chest still aching profusely.

“Truly, you wish to deprive this man of medical attention?”

The Outsider pulled his head away from the wall, trying to give a look at the person to whom the unfamiliar voice belonged.  Across from him sat a young man in Tyvian clothes, his coat and hat featuring the motif of red lilies. A strange, deer-like dog lay between them, licking the edge of his bloody coat.  It took everything in him not to flinch and curl up away from the creature.

“Sir, we already told you he’s fine,” it was Juniper, doing her best to layer on the charm. “All he needs is rest.”

“Moments before you were just telling me how he was slammed into an iron crate by a giant squid,” the man snapped. “Whatever the truth is, he is clearly badly injured. I only have to look at how blood-soaked the Empress’ arm is to know that. What’s more is that he hasn’t stirred since I met you, and is as pale as death.”

That statement was immediately contradicted when the dog licked the Outsider’s blood-crusted hand.  Immediately and instinctually, his whole body flinched, curling up away from the animal, hands sandwiched between his knees and broken chest, pain and long-buried fear suppressed behind clenched teeth and closed eyes.

“Pari! Come here girl!” It sounded like the man called over his dog, but the damage was done.  The Outsider could feel himself shaking, embarrassment and self-disgust bubbling at the back of his throat alongside the terror.  That frail animal would not hurt him, it could not.  But Gods, that knowledge did little to stop the fear.

“Are you alright?” Emily’s light touch and gentle words eased the irrational panic, yet he could not bring himself to fully let his guard down.  He could not relax.  

“This is why Overseers have hounds!”

“Juniper!” Emily hissed, deep and genuine anger in her voice.

“What does that have to do with anything?” the man sounded rather confused and a touch wary.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, it was just me blurting out a random thought!” Juniper reassured with a nervous laugh.

The Outsider placed a hand over his face, trying to calm his nerves.  He felt shaky and exposed in spite of the cramped corners.  His chest throbbed, reminding him that his bones were not where they should, that his organs were pierced and bruised.  He was weak, and dogs ate the weak.

“Are your teeth chattering?”

Juniper’s innocent confusion cut through the panic, and it dissipated as he though to explain the familiar reaction to the unfamiliar crowd.  Indeed as he opened his eyes and unfurled his body, the two emotions on everyone’s faces were concern and confusion.

“Teeth chattering was a thing my people did to warn away tormenters,” the Outsider said quietly, his voice feeling hoarse. “Animals seemed to understand it well, it kept away a fair amount of creatures from the injured.”

“Your people?” finally, a name came alongside with the face and voice: Timur Voronin. His grey eyes stared at him shrewdly, yet they were not without compassion.

“It does not matter, they are all dead now,” pain lanced through his chest, his muscles chastising him for becoming tense when he should be lax.   He could not suppress the wince as he shifted, trying to get in a better position. Emily watched him, hands hovering, uncertain with how to help but desperate to do something to ease the pain.  Gods he was lucky to have her!

“The Empress and her bodyguard are saying that you are not in need of a doctor,” said Timur patiently.  “Is that truly the case?”

The Outsider nodded.  His head felt light again, and he listed over towards Emily.  She eagerly gathered him up, his head on her shoulder and her hand in his hair.

“Are you certain?” Timur pressed. “There is no shame in it.”

“Lay me before the shrine behind the library walls, and I shall heal nicely,” The Outsider murmured. “And please keep the dog away from me, she seems a kind enough beast but she will not be safe around me.”

Doubt covered the young Voronin’s face, but he nodded anyway.  The strange hound licked her master’s face as he slowly pet its cream-colored fur.   “We are nearly there, it should not be long now before we arrive at Crow’s Roost.”

***

Emily was not sure what she expected of the Voronin estate.  She certainly expected a certain sinisterness, and the same strange air that filled the Stilton Manor in the future that was no more.   From what she could see outside the carriage window in the dim light is a rather large and ornate version of a typical Tyvian farmhouse, taller than it was wide. A beautiful porch wrapped around one side, looking off into the acres of pasture and garden that surrounded the house.  Warm lanterns illuminated the entrance, a large dark wooden door carved with two ravens holding crossed scythes- one part of the family crest.   It was before that door that the crunching of gravel ceased and the carriage came to a stop.   The Outsider looked far better, now they had arrived at their destination.  He was sitting upright, and was no longer as pale as a corpse.  Noticing her gaze, he gave her a wan smile.

There was a click as the carriage door was unlatched and opened.  Emily, knowing protocol, alighted first.  Timur swiftly followed, his hound at his heels.  Then the Outsider, his hands buried deep in his pockets, and finally Juniper.  The girl stretched, looking delighted to be out of the carriage.  They were not still for long, as Timur walked forward, beckoning them to follow.  The doors smoothly opened to the warm, fire-lit foyer.  A rich rug covered the floor, and a suit of armor guarded a staircase.  The flames flickered in expertly crafted lanterns of pale colored glass and delicate metal.   At the end of the foyer by the foot of the stairs, there stood an older couple with a crow and a teenage girl.  The man sported an impressive black mustache and was greying at the temples, the crow perched on his shoulder.  His tall wife was elegantly dressed in a simple style, her dark brown hair also threaded with grey.  As for the daughter, she was clothed like a widow in deep mourning, with her pale blonde hair offering a striking contrast to the black of her clothes.  Timur came to a stop before his family, sweeping his arm out to introduce them.

“Empress Emily, may I introduce my parents, Stanislav and Roksana Voronin, and my little sister, Yuliya Voronin.”

The three of them bowed, none of them taking Emily’s hands to kiss them, much to her relief.  She always hated with nobles did that.   Even the crow bowed its head.

“Welcome to Crow’s Roost,” greeted Stanislav, his tone perfectly polite and rather gracious. “We thank you for traveling all this way to talk with us.”

Emily inclined her head. “We thank you for the hospitality.  The journey here has been rougher than expected.”

“Indeed?” Roksana’s voice had a warm, matronly quality to it. “Please, take some time to refresh yourselves before dinner. Yuliya will show you to your rooms.”

The rather sullen-faced girl beckoned them and swiftly turned on her heel and climbed up the stairs.  Emily quickly followed her, eager to get the bloodsoaked coat off her body. 

The upstairs was very similar in style to the downstairs, with dark wood, thick rugs, and pretty lanterns on the walls.  Yuliya came to a stop before a door at the far end of the hall.

“This is your room Empress, as for the other two-”

Emily cleared her throat, doing her best to politely interrupt the girl. “I’m sorry, but only Juniper needs a separate room.”

“What?” the confused Juniper piped up. “Empress, I know he’s supposed to be your bodyguard and all but you don’t need to share a room with him.  I’m sure it’s safe here.”

“That’s not the reason we are sharing a room,” Emily flatly replied.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Outsider suppressing a laugh.

Juniper blinked hard, as if trying to remove something from her eyes, and stared at the two of them.  Then her eyes widened.

“But I thought he was only professionally interested in you!”

The Outsider burst into laughter, and Emily restrained the urge to hit her forehead against the threshold.

“Just give me our luggage please.”

“Oh, right!” she reached into her pants pocket and dropped the two trunks that expanded as they hit the ground. “See ya later I guess?”

Trying her best not to roll her eyes, Emily opened the door and then dragged the two trunks inside, followed by the still laughing Outsider.

“I am guessing you are feeling better,” she said, a little amused by his own amusement.

“Oh I am still in terrible pain but I’m feeling much better,” he replied with a large smile.

In the toasty well-lit room it was easy to see how much of a mess they were. The whole front of her overcoat and its sleeves were now rust-red.  As for the Outsider, it was needless to say that his coat was stained beyond repair, not to mention there was quite the rip along his right side. Through the rip she could easily see his waistcoat was in as rough a shape.  He gazed down, and his face fell.

“I guess it will take a lot more than soap and water to fix this.”

“Some things do not need to be fixed,” Emily replied gently, taking off her coat and draping it atop her trunk. “If you really liked the coat and waistcoat we can have them replicated.”

The Outsider nodded, still looking rather put out. “It seems like such a waste to me.  They still function; they are just… a little bloodstained.”

 Emily raised an eyebrow. “A little?”

“Alright, they are very bloodstained,” he admitted, pulling a laugh from Emily. “But your coat, that is salvageable, yes?”

“We’ll see if the staff can clean it. If not, it is no loss. Now,” she ushered him towards the bathroom. “You might want to make yourself less bloody before dinner.”

“Afraid they might mistake me for dinner?” he teased.

“If they do I promise to keep them off you, now shoo.”

 The Outsider barked a laugh before closing the door.  Emily hoped that most of the bleeding was done, for his sake and the sake of the poor towels.   Releasing a deep sigh she undid her hair and collapsed on the bed.  Void she felt exhausted.  Still, she could not relax for too long.  Her travel outfit was not fully suited for dinner, though it was silly to just put on an entirely new outfit for a single meal.  But it was important to make a good first impression.

It felt good to undress, to peel off the layers of travel.  She frowned at the angry red lines left behind by her pants.  Emily ran a hand over her belly, her frustration rapidly disappearing into fondness.  It was just a little bump, one that was easily hidden under thick winter coats and large belts.  But soon it would not be so little, and she would soon have to explain to Luis why she couldn’t fit in any of her pants. Emily rolled her eyes at the thought. Pants were rather overrated anyway. 

But for now they fit, so she had to put them on to be presentable.  There was a wash basin tucked in the corner of the room, the full pitcher placed within a blue bowl, towels handing off small rungs on the table below.  Emily happily washed her face, her hands and her arms, feeling far less tired by the end.  Her stomach growled, reminding her that she had not eaten since midday.  She sighed and put on her shirt and jacket, glancing at the still closed bathroom door.  Was the Outsider alright? 

A knock at the bedroom door pulled her attention away from the Outsider.  Curious and a bit wary, Emily opened the door.

“Empress!” it was Roksana and Stanislav, the wife smiling widely and her husband standing stoically behind her.  “Can we come in? There is something we wish to discuss with you.”

“Alright,” Emily stepped aside, rather confused.

Roksana immediately took a seat on one of the two armchairs, and Stanislav stood behind her.  “Please, take a seat.”

Emily slid into the armchair, hands folded in her lap. “So what is it that you wish to discuss?”

“We could not help but notice that your male companion looks very much like a Voronin,” Stanislav began.  “It is almost uncanny.”

“It got us thinking,” continued Roksana, a sly smile adorning her face. “We’ve had a family joke that our firstborn child was kidnapped by a midwife. When Timur and Yuliya misbehaved we would tell them that the midwife would come back and take them like she took their elder brother.  Of course they no longer believe the story to be true…”

“But how fun would it be for us to pretend we were telling the truth the whole time?” finished Stanislav with a large friendly grin.

Emily stared at the two of them, scarcely believing that this was happening.  What luck she had!

“If you are searching for my permission, you certainly have it,” Emily said, not sure what else to say. “It certainly is auspicious. The very reason I asked to meet with you is that I was hoping if you would be amenable to adopting Owen Pharmakós.”

The two exchanged a look, and then looked back at Emily.  Stanislav looked very amused, but Roksana less so.  

“Empress, you do understand us claiming your companion to be our long lost eldest son is a joke on our actual eldest son,” Roksana’s eyes flashed. “Why should we continue this claim at Timur’s expense?”

“Oh, Owen and I have absolutely no wish to deprive your legitimate children of their rights,” Emily assured them.  “You see, I wish to marry Owen, but I can only marry a noble.”

“And if we take him into our family, we will gain you as well,” Stanislav smiled and put a hand on Roksana’s shoulder. “So all you are asking for our family name?”

Emily nodded. “Claim him to be a Voronin, and do not back down when people question and doubt.  In return, you will always have my ear, and my children will bear the name Voronin.”

There was a pause.  Stanislav was looking down at his wife, who seemed to be pondering the proposal.  She suddenly held up a hand.

“I offer my consent, so long as your children bare the name Voronin and call me grandmother,” a small smile appeared on Roksana’s face. “Oh, and do not tell your Owen about this whole discussion. I would like to see how he reacts before we fully agree to your deal.”

Emily nodded, glancing between the two of them. “Alright, thank you very much for listening to me.”

“It is our pleasure!” Roksana chirped, a wide smile appearing once more on her face. Stanislav nodded too, a small smile on his face.  “Dinner is in five minutes, Yuliya will bring you down.”

The two left as almost as swiftly they came, leaving Emily a little dizzied.  She glanced at the bathroom door, wondering if the Outsider heard the whole thing.  The only way she would know for sure is if she asked.  Besides, he had only five minutes to be presentable for dinner.  So she gave the door a knock.

“Outsider-”

The door flow open, startling Emily.  The Outsider stood in the threshold, dripping wet, and entirely naked.  He had the panicked expression of someone who overslept an important meeting, though Emily did not linger on his face for too long.  His chest was bruised, but other than that, the Outsider looked as he normally did.  Satisfied that he was no longer grievously injured, she allowed herself to admire his very, very beautiful body; now cursing the fact that dinner was so soon.  She was hungry for something else.

“Did I miss dinner?!”

Emily rolled her eyes fondly and planted a kiss on his lips. “No, it is in five minutes.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, his dark eyes combing her face.  A slow smile appeared, the panic long gone. “I can see that you would rather me remain unclothed.”

“As delightful as that would be, you cannot attend dinner like so,” Emily hummed, putting a hand on his chest.

“You are not particularly encouraging me,” the words came out with a purr, kissing her lips.

 Emily eagerly returned the kiss.  How tempting it was to simply undo all her work, peel off her clothes and skip dinner entirely.  But that simply would not do. Reluctantly, she pulled away from the Outsider.  He made a noise of disappointment.

“Unfortunately, I do not think our hosts would appreciate us being late to dinner,” she said wryly, taking her hand off his chest.

“A pity,” he murmured, his head tilted just so. “Perhaps they would be amenable to us leaving early.”

Emily felt a small coy smile appear on her face. “Perhaps.”

***

Official meals always made the Outsider nervous.  His manners were still noticeably unpolished, from the handling of the food to making polite conversation.  So much of what was served felt strange to him, like he should not be eating something so clean, so valuable. Even sitting in the chair he felt out of place.  Perhaps the low golden lighting of the room would hide his mistakes and imperfections.

So he swallowed his nerves and misgivings, taking his seat next to Emily.  Across him sat Timur, and at the head was Stanislav. Yuliya sat across from Emily, sneaking glances at him as often as she could.  She seemed rather curious of him.  At the foot was Roksana, and she rang a bell.  

Immediately a silent servant appeared holding a tray of intricate crystal glasses, each filled with dark red liquid. He could see different markings etched into the crystal, a different flower on each one.  The servant went around the table, placing a glass in front of each Voronin… and himself.  The tray empty, the servant swiftly left them.

In unison, the four Voronins took up their glasses, raising them up.  Very lost, the Outsider kept his hands on his knees. 

“To the Empress, long may she reign,” declared Stanislav. 

“Long may she reign,” the Outsider joined the rest of the Voronins in the sentiment. After all, he did agree with it.

The four Voronins took a long drag from their strange drinks.  Curious and a little wary, the Outsider picked up the glass, and cautiously mimicked them. 

“What is it?” Emily whispered quietly, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Spiced blood,” he replied, pleasantly surprised. “It tastes like cow blood.”

Emily blinked. “They gave you blood? I did not get any.”

“Would you like some of mine?” he offered, holding the glass out.  She took it and nearly dropped it in shock.

“It’s warm!”

The Outsider chuckled. “Of course it is warm, would you rather be drinking cold congealing blood?”

Emily made a face at him mid-sip and immediately passed the glass back. “How do you drink this?”

He took another long swig, enjoying the nostalgia that the warm metallic taste brought about. The thrill of sneaking into the crowded market and opening a goat’s vein, lapping up the blood and then running for his life when the merchants found him flashed through his mind. But there was something else in there, something that coated his tongue.

“You have drunk blood before, Mr. Pharmakós?” Timur remarked in surprise.

“Every winter I lived off of it,” that was far too much information; a simple yes would have sufficed.  And yet, the words slid out of his mouth, unbidden.  His nerves came back, and he tried to swallow them down with more blood. Almost immediately he knew it was the wrong thing to do.

**_You idiot_** hissed the Void. **_It’s spiked with truth serum_.**

The bell rang again, and this time two silent servants emerged, placing small bowls of soup before them. 

“So, Owen is it?” Stanislav said, spoon held in hand. “What is it that you do?”

A tense smile came to the Outsider’s face, his teeth gritted against his tongue, compelled to spill every last detail about his life. “What do I do? I am a power broker for the Void. That means I watch people, events, how history unfolds and facts twists. I meddle where I see fit, and I protect the Void’s integrity.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a spoon slip out of Yuliya’s hand, her pale eyes wide with shock.  Roksana seemed similarly taken aback.  Timur scoffed at him, rolling his eyes.

“Must you give audience to every charlatan in the Empire, father?”

“Charlatans?” Emily asked curiously, affecting innocence.  Timur looked at her with astonishment.

“Surely you do not believe in magic Empress?”

“It is not so much a matter of belief as acknowledging reality,” she said, unwrapping the black band that covered her left hand. “To deny Delilah’s occult abilities is pure foolishness, and to deny my own would be the same as shooting myself in the foot.”

A gasp left Yuliya and Roksana as Emily held up her Marked hand, and Stanislav looked upon it with wonder.  Timur scoffed.

“I see that you like the rest of my family take comfort in an uncaring god, one who does not exist.”

The Outsider laughed. “Oh he exists, but you are right, he does not care.”

“Do you know him?” Yuliya leaned forward, her eyes gleaming.

“Yes,” he and Emily replied at the same time, drawing a laugh from him. 

“And is he as uncaring as my brother says?” Yuliya shot a gloating look at Timur who rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Emily glanced at him, as if asking for permission.  The Outsider nodded, glad that she was the one doing the talking. “As a god, he is not particularly sympathetic. In order to even gain his attention you have to be the right person at the right place at the right time.  Once your moment is past, he then dismisses you.”

“I am guessing then you filter out the riff-raff then,” Roksana said lightly, her bright eyes latching onto the Outsider’s face.

“Yes,” he took a hasty mouthful of soup, hoping it would wear away at the serum.  “But if the Void bids me to do something then I must drop what I am doing to do it.”

Stanislav hummed, and the Outsider could feel the conversation turn. “So, how did you meet the Empress?”

“She caught my eye along the Grand Canal to Karnaca,” he replied, fighting the urge to pick up his bowl and just finish the soup as he normally did. “I vastly preferred her to be at the head of the Empire over twisted Delilah, so the least I could do was offer any help I could give.”

“How fortunate for you, Empress!” Yuliya declared, a touch of envy in her admiration.  Emily smiled slightly and nodded.

“I was indeed fortunate that Owen took notice of me.  I am not sure how I would have been able to reclaim my throne without his help or the help of many others.”

A chuckle tumbled out of his mouth, tongue slick with truth. “You had the strength to do it. I would argue that Megan Foster and Solokov were far more pivotal than I.  What I provided was simply information and a couple tools.”

“Do not sell yourself short,” Emily chided playfully. “It helped, knowing that I had you in my corner.”

The serum must have covered any sort of deception, from truth to masked emotions, because he was utterly unable to hide how giddy such words made him.  Gods this was embarrassing.

The bell rang again and the bowls were swept away. Much to his chagrin, his was still half full, all because of having to use that damn spoon. He hoped that the bowl wouldn’t go to waste.

“Say, your last name is Pharmakós isn’t it?”

The Outsider locked eyes with Timur, whose question pulled him out of the soup-driven train of thought.   “It is the last name I have given myself.  I did not have one before that.”

A rather knowing look crossed the young man’s face. “Ah, so you’re an orphan.”

“How fortunate that your guess happens to be correct,” the Outsider replied somewhat bitingly. “You are aware that the people on the Ladraos archipelago have only recently taken last names?”

“I knew my guess was a certainty,” Timur retorted smugly. “You could not serve the Outsider so intimately and keep your family bonds. Dear Grandmother, may she rest in peace, left us all to serve the Outsider in our homeland, and asked that we not follow.”

“It is certainly true that those desiring to serve the Outsider tend to leave behind their family, as well as most of their reason,” he replied tartly as plates of steak, parsnips, and half a strange green flower were placed before them. “However in my case, I had no family to abandon before I was pressed into service. As far back as I can remember I was alone.”

“Truly?” Roksana spoke up, her tone filled with pity. “Even in the early days of your childhood you had nobody?”

“Well someone clearly took care of me as an infant or otherwise I would not be here talking to you,” the Outsider could not help the sass in his reply. “My earliest memory was trying to rouse an elderly woman who was very much dead.  I do not know how old I was at the time, but I think I was perhaps five.”

Stanislav and Roksana exchanged a look, their eyes wide as if something had fallen into place.  Stanislav turned to face him, his face grave.

“Owen, do you know if that woman was a midwife?”

His tongue felt slippery again and once more words fell out. “Now that you mention it, she probably was.  She possessed many things that one would only see in that trade, and she was the sort one would think to be a witch.”

Roksana audibly gasped and all the Voronins seemed to freeze. Emily continued to eat, a carefully crafted expression of mild interest upon her face. The Outsider felt that he was missing something, and that irritated him.

“You must be joking.”  Timur’s eyes darted between his parents, disbelief apparent.

Roksana shook her head, covering her mouth as tears welled up in her dark green eyes. A gentle emotion-filled smile crossed Stanislav’s face, and he put a hand on the Outsider’s shoulder.

“Welcome home, Afanasiy.”

Now he was well and truly lost.  He glanced over to Emily, desperately seeking answers.  Fortunately, she obliged.

“Twenty-five years ago a midwife stole the eldest son of Stanislav and Roksana Voronin from them.  And now, he has returned.”

Now it all made sense!  Gods, he felt foolish.  That little family tall tale was his ticket into nobility.  And yet…

“I do not know what to say,” the words came out low and even in spite of his confusion. “To be part of a family after so long… But, I do not deserve the honors of the eldest son.”

“Oh truly?” spat Timur. “Why even come here and claim to be the fictional Afanasiy?”

“Timur!” Stanislav scolded, his face darkened.  That increased the Outsider’s nerves.  Was a fight about to break out?  He had to do something.

“I did not come here to steal your place!” the Outsider insisted, trying to convey his sincerity without panic. “Truly, I only dreamed of a tenuous connection to the name Voronin, no more.”

“Owen… Afanasiy,” Yuliya stuttered. “Why come looking for us after all these years?”

Gods almighty, how to answer this with tact?  Perhaps say his curiosity in his past only came recently?  That sounded alright.  But as he opened his mouth his tongue felt heavy and slippery. Oh gods no.

“Emily and I wish to marry, and she can only marry someone of noble blood.”

The table fell silent for a long moment as the Outsider winced at his forced bluntness.  When would this void-damned serum wear off?!

“This is a shotgun wedding isn’t it?” remarked Timur, somewhat dazed.   Out of the corner of his eye, the Outsider saw Emily frown.

“Now what makes you say that?” she asked sharply.

“If I am counting correctly you two have only known each other for six months,” Timur continued, confidence growing with each word. “And your previous relationship lasted for four years with not even the slightest whispers of engagement. The only thing that could cause this change in attitude is pregnancy.”

Emily was silent for a long moment, flickers of irritation and thoughtfulness fighting across her face.  The Outsider kept silent; now was not the time for him to chime in.

“I was a different person then.  I knew getting married would tie me down and at that time I didn’t want it.  Besides, one can be fully committed to someone and choose not to marry them.  I still believe that.  However, I do see the benefits of marriage and no longer fear it.  All it took was finding the right person.”

Gods he loved Emily.

“So, are you actually pregnant?” Yuliya asked hesitantly.

Emily paused for a moment, then nodded.  Yuliya lit up, utterly delighted.

“THANK YOU! Thank you so much, really!”

“You’re… welcome,” Emily replied, unsure.  She glanced over to the Outsider and he just shrugged. Gods know why she was thanking the two of them.

Roksana affectionately rolled her eyes. “Yuliya is celebrating the fact that you two have relieved her of the duty of carrying on the family name.”

“Excuse me, I thought that was my duty?” Timur interjected, mildly offended.

“Son, the day you find a woman you love more than a man is a day where the sun would be blue,” Stanislav retorted fondly.

Timur gave the Outsider and Emily a tired look. “Are you sure you want to join this family?”

Emily looked over to him, and the Outsider realized that it was his call.  They could back out right now; abandon all that they had gained in this short while. That, the Outsider thought, would be utterly foolish.

“So long as you will have me, I will take the name Voronin and do my best to honor you all.”

The four Voronins took their glasses and raised them up. “To Owen Afanasiy Voronin!” declared Stanislav. 

“To Owen!”

They took a long drink from their glasses, and Stanislav grinned warmly at him. “Welcome to the family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, apologies for being a week late. Grad School has been vicious lately and quite frankly the lack of engagement with the story has given me little motivation to be prompt with my uploads. I am considering taking a hiatus starting after the upload of the next chapter while I write more of the story. I hope that is not too disappointing.  
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope that I can answer any questions you might have.  
> The OCs are largely among the Oracular Sisters and new divinities.  
> I will be posting once every two weeks, but I do have a habit of getting off track. This story is largely an excuse for Emsider, but I hope to make it at least somewhat reasonable and interesting. I am 2000% open for imput, and hope to have this as one of the few finished Emsider stories on here.


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